


Give Me a Signal

by stranestelle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad wifi as a plot device, F/M, Gen, Laws I made up as a plot device, Plot devices as a plot device, Politics, Rewrite of the TCW S6 Clovis arc, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Some Love Triangle-y stuff in there, Some sort of canon-style general plot, cause you can't exactly remove Clovis from this arc, watch me as I try to downplay it and make it realistic at the same time, with anidala in there I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16122953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranestelle/pseuds/stranestelle
Summary: When Padmé Amidala is unable to contact Coruscant while negotiating a loan on Scipio, the Senate suspects trouble, and sends Anakin Skywalker to go check on her. Of course, the resourceful senator isn’t really in any trouble – don't flatter yourself, Rush Clovis – but there’s definitely some brewing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. There’s not an Anidala I know of that doesn’t at least have mixed feelings on the S6 Clovis arc, so I… wrote my own version? What that basically means is similar-but-different premise, some borrowed lines and plot elements, stuff I made up, stuff I tried to research and probably failed, and hopefully at least 50% added light-heartedness and humor cause It’s What I Do, and of course, fluffier Anidala. 
> 
> I do appreciate Clovis’ somewhat sympathetic depiction in the canon arc, so I’m going to try to strike a balance here between his stalkerish tendencies and more virtuous qualities, even though this IS a different story and so is his role in it…-ish. what I’m trying to say I hope I don’t end up demonizing him too much ‘cause that’s not what “fluffier Anidala” should in any way depend on lol

Padmé Amidala could not believe her eyes. She had again – dangerously – forgotten that her informed opinion was someone else's blatant ignorance, and that this immensely convoluted war had a way of manifesting itself in the least likely of places, in the most unpleasant of ways. And presently it had taken on the form of Rush Clovis, introduced to her as a “special representative” of the Banking Clan. She gaped at the screens above her, transmitting approving nods from the Core Five of Scipio. Was this a practical joke? If so, it was about as funny as, and indeed hit her much in the same way as a slow-acting poison eating away at her internal organs. 

“Senator Amidala,” Clovis greeted in a deliberately formal fashion, that would no doubt soon enough turn perfectly chummy. The addressee pursed her lips at the hand he offered, at once making a conscious decision to indeed be Senator Amidala, and not Padmé, today. 

“Sir,” Padmé turned to address the smugly smiling screens, as she withdrew her hand all the way to the neighboring system, “I was assured that this transaction would be free of prejudice and partisan allegiance. This man is a known Separatist and traitor to the Republic.”

“Padmé…” Clovis tried. 

“I can assure you, Rush Clovis is our most trusted and best negotiator,” Mak Plain simply stated, although his voice betrayed a certain confusion about what exactly was going on. 

“I am sorry, gentlemen, but I insist this man be removed from the negotiations,” Padmé declared. “Until then, we have nothing further to discuss.” 

Padmé was requested many times on that afternoon to come out of her quarters and begin the negotiations, but she had already mentally resigned from the objective of the trip, and was preparing to leave at the earliest opportunity. That should send the Banking Clan a strong enough message to do more extensive background checks on their “special representatives”. And clearly, she herself was not exactly unprejudiced. 

Although, she did wonder if that was just a more acceptable way of saying that she was letting her personal feelings get in the way of doing her job. Wouldn't they just send someone else to negotiate the much-needed loan with the very same man? And what did she really know about said man these days, beyond their ancient history and one very unfortunate encounter? 

Well, whatever it was, she probably didn’t even want to know. 

“I am sorry, My Lady,” Teckla finally broke the silence as she handed back the hologram projector, having been tinkering with it for some time. “I don't understand… the signal is very weak for some reason.” She paused to consider for a while, then added apologetically, “I'm afraid this creates a bit of an awkward situation, as they can probably tell you’re trying to contact the Senate, but don’t know what about.” 

Fantastic, Padmé thought to herself, though she rewarded Teckla’s valiant efforts with a smile and a nod, before stopping to consider just what kind of an awkward situation they were looking at. Loss of signal rarely meant anything good on the battlefield, or on a high-stakes mission, and, she supposed, her business trip to Scipio probably fell under the latter category. She was familiar enough with the Senate’s modus operandi to know they would most likely believe her to be in trouble, and… oh no. They might even send in a scouting party, comprised of a Jedi Knight or two. One in particular came to mind, one who’d been waiting to get a special holo transmission of his own, and who would most certainly volunteer to go. And while she wasn’t going to belittle Anakin’s role in saving her life during her last run-in with Rush Clovis, she believed herself perfectly capable of handling Round 2 herself, was decidedly not in any trouble, and dreaded the thought of having the two of them breathing air from the same atmosphere once more. 

“In that case,” she sighed, “I guess I’d better stay at least until the inevitable ‘help’ arrives. Who knows, the bankers might even show Clovis the door, and leave us responsible adults to do business between ourselves.” 

“I do believe that would be preferable, My Lady,” Teckla agreed, unable to help a slight chuckle. 

-

Clovis slowly removed his ear from the door, already paranoid.

He was familiar enough with the Senate's modus operandi to believe Padmé's prediction accurate – those folks just liked to throw either clones or Jedi at every conceivable problem – and familiar enough with her acquaintances to know just who the 'help' would turn out to be. In fact, he would have bet 10,000 credits on the spot that it would be that one Jedi Knight with the strangely close working relationship with Senator Amidala, and no doubt a good volunteering spirit. And while Clovis had not personally planted the poison in her drink during their last encounter, and had in fact been unaware of such a vicious scheme, he was also pretty sure these particular details had mostly eluded the, uh, erratic Jedi General. He struck Clovis as the sort of fellow who had just enough room in his war-worn brain for three or four keywords at a time: Clovis, poison, Padmé, bad. 

Clovis tried to start his own hand-held hologram device. Unsurprisingly, the response was unenthusiastic – the signal was getting more and more unstable by the day. And he doubted that the Senate would in any case appreciate any request of his not to send anyone to the “rescue”. 

Clovis considered his options. He had to remind himself that the loan negotiations were not, in fact, a ploy by him to win back Padmé’s favor, but a fortunate happenstance that the former could end up being a by-product of. No, he told himself, try again. He had not worked hard for this position just to impress a girl, he was a trustworthy and capable employee of the Banking Clan whose job it was to make a loan agreement with the Republic that they so desperately needed, that both parties would benefit from – for the good of the Galaxy… 

And then, on the other hand, he held some personal suspicions about the whole thing. Had they really needed further complications? 

“Hey!” a steely voice called from the end of the corridor, accompanied by the swiftly approaching steps of a stern-looking Muun employee. “Those are Senator Amidala’s private quarters, no one is allowed—” 

Clovis was already on his way back, and nearly resigned to his inevitable removal from the negotiations, when suddenly it him that if the Senate were indeed sending a Jedi – a General – they might be making a huge mistake. 

It might just be that the good of Galaxy – as well as his own – depended on him thwarting the visitor and negotiating the loan with Senator Amidala as privately as possible. 

-

“Of course, General Skywalker, having worked with Senator Amidala closely on numerous occasions, you are a perfectly good candidate,” the Supreme Chancellor admitted, nodding with approval, then adding with a smirk, “And it doesn’t seem like you will take a no for an answer.” 

“My ship is already prepared,” Anakin announced at no one in particular in a room crowded with assorted senators and council members, and marched out the door, pursued by one of his favorite people and a major killjoy, Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

“Uh, excuse me,” the Jedi Master began, not exactly struggling to keep up with Anakin’s long, determined strides, but not appreciating them, either, “but is anyone using their heads here besides myself? So they have reception issues. Inconvenient, but I have no doubt they'll have it fixed before you even reach the system. Technically, there is not the least indication of Senator Amidala being in any kind of trouble, and I believe she is accompanied by at least one of her handmaidens, Captain Typho, and…” 

Anakin knew all this. Truthfully, he wasn’t even doubting his wife’s ability to handle herself, trouble or no trouble, or for that matter, Teckla or Captain Typho's professional competence. But the Senate were already planning on sending someone, and as the Chancellor had said, it might as well be someone appropriately familiar enough with the Senator in question (and definitely only appropriately, as far as they knew). Whether or not they were using their heads, or whether he was latching onto the weakest excuse to check on/see his wife were not things worth mulling over – he preferred action and results. 

“Let me at least go with you,” Obi-Wan finished his tirade, which Anakin had mostly tuned out. “Officially I'm on a three-day meditative break—” 

“Then you better go meditate, old man,” Anakin shot back, only to regret his chosen tone ever so slightly. Showing some respect for his master, no matter the situation, or how much they both cherished their bickering, probably couldn't hurt. “For three days.” Yeah, good job on that, Anakin. 

“I did,” Obi-Wan responded with mild, diluted-over-time irritation, “not for three days, but…” He sighed, and seemed to brace himself for something. “That's just it. Listen, Anakin, I got a bad feeling about this… mission. About you specifically. About, uh…”

This stopped Anakin in his tracks, even made him spin around and blink at his persistent shadow. He could not reach Padmé soon enough, but was curious to hear Obi-Wan finish this particular sentence. 

“Oh, thanks,” he retorted almost playfully, crossing his arms. “And about what?”

Alright then. As it turned out, Obi-Wan was not prepared to answer him anytime this century, but Anakin was ready to make the jump into hyperspace within the next five minutes. They would probably soon enough again not have this conversation. 

-

Of course, Clovis was doing this for the greater good – so as not to complicate the negotiations, or jeopardize the relations between the banks and the Republic. But still – he could hardly believe he actually had legal grounds to have the Jedi kicked off the planet as soon as he arrived. And none of this could be traced back to him, he had made sure. And maybe – just maybe – it wouldn’t even be that Jedi. 

After hours and hours of being on the receiving end of increasingly desperate messages sent via servants, Padmé had come around at least enough to have dinner with Clovis – at the opposite end from him at a laughably long table, and all food first tested with specially provided poison-indicating substances. Naturally they were also accompanied by their respective personal aides, as well as Mak Plain and two other high-ranking members of the Banking Clan. Their presence rather tempered the conversation and general atmosphere, and there was definitely nothing remotely resembling negotiations taking place as of yet. After the dessert had been served to finish off the supremely uncomfortable and frustrating meal, Clovis had had enough, and knew he needed to play a few more of his cards. 

“Esteemed colleagues,” he began, nodding at the Scipians, then turning to the rest of the party, “my friends and guests… may I request a few minutes alone with Senator Amidala?”

Padmé shifted in her chair and opened her mouth, only for Clovis to immediately assure her, “I am first and foremost asking Senator Amidala herself. I presume all present parties have by now deduced that the Senator and I have a history, not entirely rosy in nature, which has caused the all-important negotiations to come to a halt before they had a chance to begin.”

There were several points in his phrasing that Padmé clearly did not appreciate at all, but she seemed to have mostly moved past her initial open hostility. All Clovis’ associates looked just about ready to jolt right up from the table and wish the two of them a pleasant evening, whereas both of Padmé’s aides seemed to be channeling their inner protocol droids in an effort to look impartial. 

“Very well,” Padmé finally said. Her companions did not bother to conceal their disapproval as they graciously excused themselves from the room (and seemed to be gesturing to the senator some sort of coded message), but the Scipians might as well have been clapping their hands as they closed the door. 

Once they were alone, Clovis did not waste any time in striding across half the room to where Padmé was sitting, or presently getting up, looking perfectly prepared to draw a blaster on him. 

“Padmé, we really need to put our past behind us, and negotiate this contract like professionals.”

Padmé tilted her head, instinctively backpedaling a step or two. 

“Professional liars, you mean. ‘Our past’ has nothing to do with the droid factory you were secretly sponsoring for the Separatists. Why should I trust you to be honest now?”

There it was: above all, she was asking him to be honest. He had been planning to play some of his deck, but at this rate… Clovis paused to consider for a moment. Yeah, he’d have to jump right off to his wild card. 

“Look,” he began, hesitating. “They’ve already laid out the perfect contract for us to sign. You’d be very happy with it, and so would the Galactic Senate, and the whole of the Republic. I thought about just playing my part and convincing you to sign it. They give you the funds, you would’ve gone home a hero with minimal effort…” 

“But?”

Clovis could not seem to resist the urge to move closer to her, having convinced himself it was for secrecy’s sake, but this time Padmé stayed in place, seemingly having dropped at least her outermost shield of defense. 

“Lately,” his voice lowered to a whisper, “I’ve been suspecting there is something else going on here. I have no proof, but… you see, I suspect there is actually no money in the bank at all.”

“That’s absurd,” Padmé argued. “You said they were ready to give us the funds.”

“I have no doubt they would’ve given you the first installment. Robbed one side to save the other, you see.” Clovis swallowed, doubting his own words as they came out of his mouth. “I don’t know, perhaps I’m wrong— I hope I’m wrong… but I really think the Banking Clan might be on the verge of collapse.” 

Padmé studied him closely. 

“Where’s the proof?”

“In the—“ 

There was a sharp knock at the door. Clovis almost jumped out of his skin. 

“When I ask for privacy, I expect to—” 

A fresh-faced servant boy saw himself in regardless. He made an overzealous salute and started yapping away, “I apologize, sir. It’s about the Jedi we arrested at the spaceport, sir. We need you to verify the protocol regarding the presence of military personnel on a neutral planet while an interplanetary negotiation is underway, as a participating party in said nego—“ 

Clovis was intimately familiar with the protocol in question. It was the exact legal loophole he’d planned to exploit when figuring out how to deflect a hormone-struck Jedi off the planet – and of course, to make sure the contract could be signed without complication. Only this masterplan of his had somehow had the very opposite effect: it had turned into forcibly holding said Jedi?! 

It seemed that Padmé had heard the words “Jedi” and “arrest” as well. 

“What did you do?!” she hissed, shooting a telling glower at him as she flounced out of the room. 

-

Well, Anakin supposed, at least detention was different from imprisonment, which was a nice change of pace. This was hardly a prison cell – it was better-lit, airier, the door unlocked albeit not unguarded, and there was even a vending machine for nutrition bars at the corner. The four other detainees present seemed mostly bored and not doubtful in the least of their imminent release, though judging by their looks only, they might have just as well been in jail proper. 

One would also not have expected to hear a knock at a prison cell’s door, but apparently that was standard procedure for a detention… lobby. Anakin observed this with mild curiosity, right until in waltzed the woman he loved, and he almost fell off the unnecessarily comfortable chair. His wife was not only in perfect health, but in fact looking quite energetic, sparing the guards a few choice words before catching Anakin’s eye, and rushing across the lobby into his arms. 

Well, into his arms, onto the far edges of his tongue, same difference. At least, he wished. 

“Padmé,” Anakin barely managed to utter from the midst of her chosen manner of welcome, “I should point out that Obi-Wan is right there.”

It was such a classic moment killer, and yet they fell right into it every time. Padmé sheepishly pulled back to peer over Anakin's shoulder, at the man either sleeping or devotedly feigning sleep on another near-luxurious piece of furniture.

“This is all his fault, by the way.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch me as I try to tackle the whole Jealousy Thing with a guy with anger issues and still make him sympathetic 'cause that's the whole point of this fic is it not ahahaha

As soon as Anakin and Padmé had stationed themselves at a convincingly professional distance from one another, or perhaps as soon as he sensed himself being accused of something, Obi-Wan stirred awake. 

“Isn't that right?” Anakin called to him before the Jedi Master had barely wiped the stupor off his eyes. “If I'd been alone, no one would have paid attention–”

“Anakin, what is going on?” Padmé wanted to know. Gone was the blissful giddiness at seeing her husband, in was listening to yet another bout of squabbling between two grown men, who she was starting to believe were actually physically glued to one another. 

“You first,” Anakin insisted, as Obi-Wan was taking his time joining the blame game. “You aren't in any trouble, are you… Senator?” 

Padmé shook her head. “No, it was just a misunderstanding. We talked about it at dinner, with… the bankers. Apparently they've been having wide-spread reception issues for the last few weeks or so.” 

Obi-Wan shuffled over, looking as though he had either really needed that nap, or ruined the rest of his day by taking it. He did find it in himself, however, to shoot Anakin what appeared to be a 'I told you so' look. 

“I knew they would send at least one of you,”Padmé sighed. She gestured at the laxly guarded door, which both Captain Typho and Teckla had just walked through with ease. “As you can see, we're all fine here. And now that we've established that, what's this about an arrest? There's a law that forbids your presence here?”

She was, of course, owning up to her own unfamiliarity with such a law, and already blaming herself for this whole muddle. The negotiations hadn't even started yet, and she already had two Jedi Knights to bust out of jail? 

…Or a hotel lobby? Padmé narrowed her eyes as she finally tore her gaze from Anakin and looked around. It was all awfully nice for a lockup. 

“Apparently,” Obi-Wan finally found the energy to open his mouth, somehow managing to articulate no less eloquently than usual, “The Scipians have a mostly overlooked, but technically still valid law that forbids military presence on the planet while an interplanetary negotiation is taking place, especially when said negotiation takes advantage of Scipio's status as neutral ground.” He gave a deep yawn, not covering his mouth until he was already done, and apologizing once he realized his mistake. 

“That's ridiculous,” Padmé said. “I arrived here with a whole squad of clone troopers and their captain. Of course, they were asked to wait at the spaceport while we entered the neutral zone.”

“Yes… I did say 'mostly overlooked',” Obi-Wan pointed out. “I tried asking the employees about the particulars of this regulation,” Obi-Wan explained, gesturing at what appeared to be… some sort of reception desk. “They had to look it up on HoloNet. Long story short, a squad of troopers stationed outside the neutral zone would not count, whereas two decorated Generals has some troubling implications.”

He gave Anakin a long, significant look. “Especially when one of them refuses to leave without 'checking on the Senator'.” 

“Anakin!” Padmé cried, crossing her arms confrontationally. “If you so much as elbowed–”

“I didn't!” Anakin insisted. Obi-Wan made a vague gesture that didn't really confirm or deny anything. 

Padmé shook her head, all-too familiar with the great joys of bureaucracy and legal trifles to know this could yet turn into a fine mess. Then again… sometimes those same things were her very best friends.

“Only,” she began with optimism, “I haven't actually negotiated anything just yet!”

“You haven't?” Obi-Wan perked up. 

“That's what it says, correct? Military presence is forbidden while the negotiations are underway. I have witnesses to attest that no such negotiations have yet taken place in any form, so that should ensure your imminent release and an easy solution to this misunderstanding.”

Padmé gestured for Typho and Teckla to come over, giving them detailed instructions how to retrieve the witnesses and subsequently secure the release as quickly as possible. The aides nodded without a single question, and saw themselves out. 

Padmé looked at Anakin. He'd been awfully quiet for a while, and seemed almost disappointed that he'd soon have to leave after having just arrived, and barely gotten a, uh, first taste of his beloved wife. He did manage a small smile though, and there was a playful glint in his eyes that made her grin as well. She desperately wanted to at least hold his hand, and wondered if she could successfully pass that off as a 'always happy to do business with you' type of handshake. But that would mean she'd have to leave immediately after, not to mention give Obi-Wan a matching uncomfortably long farewell. 

Although, truthfully… had she been unable to resist kissing him right then and there, Obi-Wan would have most likely suffered an inexplicable, unprecedented coughing fit, excused himself into a corner and muttered something about koja nuts in the nutrition bars. 

-

“There's… how many of them now?!” Clovis groaned. He had not thought he could detest the word 'Jedi' any more, but on top of everything else, it was of course also a null plural. And with his luck, they were both secretly smitten with Senator Amidala and ready to run down the entire galactic economy if it somehow meant her happiness. He made grudging nods as the aides and a Muun representative combined their efforts to explain the situation. 

“Yes, yes,” Clovis interrupted impatiently, “absolutely free them, yes, and make sure they leave the system without delay.”

He would've of course gone with Padmé and personally made sure of this in the first place, had she allowed him to. The Muun representative was eyeing him curiously, as though he was coming to realize that the negotiations, before even starting, had long ago stopped being unprejudiced, or generally in a good place to begin. What should have been a quick swipe of hand on a holopad was turning into a convoluted farce involving a very public exes' spat and a pair of clueless Jedi Generals. 

And he had been so close… or perhaps, he had told her just enough. Just enough to awaken her own doubts, to compel her to eventually come back to him. There was no changing the negotiator at this point. She knew now it had to be her. He just hoped his gut was right. 

“But sir, you see,” the Muun representative rambled on, snapping Clovis back to reality, “technically there is no evidence that the negotiations were not underway. The 'witnesses' you refer to had left the room, remember? And whatever passed between you and Senator Amidala after that point could technically be interpreted as a form of negotiation, or negotiation strategy.”

“We were alone for five minutes…” 

In reality… some very sensitive information had indeed been exchanged. Clovis supposed he could only blame himself. He had wanted to play the dangerous game of legal loopholes and sticking to protocol, and inevitable backfire was his just reward. Still – his frustration was deepening into anger – this could not possibly be that difficult. No harm had been done – that the bankers knew of, or that in any way involved the Generals. The Jedi had legs attached to them, didn't they? And a spaceship, and the ability to fly said spaceship. Why, exactly, were they still talking about this?

“Military presence on a neutral planet while an interplanetary negotiation is underway could be interpreted as a form of attempted coercion over–” the Muun representative babbled, as though having either memorized or eaten a holobook on useless law articles. 

“Please don't tell me we have to conduct an investigation.”

“We have to conduct an investigation.”

-

Darth Sidious' cloaked figure appeared on the palm of Dooku's hand, his shriveled form almost dark enough in its essence to extinguish even the holographic blue glow. 

“My Lord,” Dooku greeted. 

Sidious did not return the greeting, and in fact remained oddly quiet for a fair while, before starting to mutter under his breath what Dooku soon identified as the word 'interesting'. 

“What is, My Lord?”

“Many things are, Lord Tyranus, for these are interesting times,” he responded. “I must confess… if the information that your spies provided is accurate… there are a few variables in this situation I had not… foreseen.” 

Dooku barely reacted to the admission – although he was surprised – none too eager to visibly show doubt of his master's strategic genius. Still – this had to be a first. 

“Still, most of our pawns are in place, and the few surprise additions, I think we can still use to our advantage.” 

“Naturally, My Lord. How would you have me proceed?” 

-

After a few tries, Padmé finally gave up on the hologram projector, unable to contact even her associates, who were on the very same planet, presumably only at a few klicks' distance from wherever this detention… palace was located. He desperately wanted to climb to the top of the nearest reception tower and do some tinkering – but apparently he wasn't really wanted on the planet at all. Anakin could not for the life of him understand how anyone could put protocol and rules before all the help he could give, all the use he could be… Two battalion-less Generals did not a war make. It made no sense. 

All the other detainees had been bailed out a fair while ago, and it was really getting late, but Padmé had nevertheless stayed by his side all evening. 

The “receptionists” were sleeping at the desk, and the guards were sitting on the floor, resting their heads against the wall, absently munching on something that smelled. Obi-Wan had retreated into a corner, his eyes closed, engaged in another meditation session, and probably getting all sorts of bad feelings all over. 

All of this combined amounted to at least a moment's privacy for the husband and wife, and soon enough they found themselves spending it accordingly. Anakin was the first to ever so slightly incline his head in a hopeful fashion, but Padmé just immediately plunged into the kiss and took charge all the way from there. 

It was a fleeting moment in a different world, far away from the war looming around them and all this bureaucratic trouble they didn't need, but at the same time – worth it all, and more. Perhaps not worth the war itself – was anything, really? – but worth the wait, and worth the fight. Worth making it out alive. 

Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes, only to witness a pair of guards glowering and whispering at them, and making a show of losing their appetite. He was right back in the real world – where there was only the wait. And somewhere down the line, probably another fight, too. 

“Who were you trying to contact?” he suddenly asked Padmé, who didn't care about the guards, and would have much liked for their little voyage across an alternate reality to go on a little while longer. Anakin himself wasn't sure why he wanted to know – but sometimes, even when he didn't want to probe, he couldn't help his Force senses – and something about the air around Padmé just seemed a little off. 

Padmé sighed, and reached to scratch her head, and potentially ruin her perfect hairstyle, which she only ever did when she was reluctant to talk about something. She looked at him, seemingly bracing herself a moment, and causing Anakin to conjure up all kinds of awful and ridiculous scenarios, before she drew a deep breath and responded calmly, “The representative from the Banking Clan. I'm sure you remember Rush Clovis.” 

Anakin gaped at her, unable to prevent his mouth from comically falling open. “Rush… Clovis?!” Before he knew it, or could in any way stop himself, he had already jolted up from the chair they shared, his voice risen to an alarming pitch and volume. Padmé followed the example, albeit in a more composed fashion. 

“Let me rack my brain… oh yeah, Rush Clovis. Almost got you poisoned, conspired with the Separatists–”

“Anakin–” 

“Thinks no means yes–”

“Anakin–”

“Nice fella! So, he's… back, huh?” 

He couldn't help himself. Before he had even fully processed what, why or at whom he was angry, the rage was already there. All it took was a trigger. Be it a past trauma, something threatening his loved ones, or the thought of losing Padmé… or common jealousy. And somehow, all of these came together and took an ugly, tangible form in the cursed name of Rush Clovis, someone he had hoped to never see or hear of again. Sure, he remembered him.

But the rage had been there before the recall. Why was it always there, and where did it all come from? 

“Anakin, whether you like it or not – whether I like it or not,” she placed a pacifying hand on his chest. “He's the assigned representative for these negotiations, and he...” Padmé hesitated. 

There was so much of it. It almost seemed to require a designated target. 

“And he what?”

“Anakin, we barely even got to begin the negotiations at all, before…”

“We arrived, and–”

“And messed things up, yes,” she shot back without blinking. Only now withdrawing her hand, she reached up to rub her temples and stopped to sort out her thoughts. “I know this is difficult to understand, but it is very important I hear him out. It is imperative that I do this, specifically.”

Anakin worked hard to compose himself. 

“Why is that?”

Padmé lowered her voice to a whisper. The guards had fallen asleep, and, amazingly, Obi-Wan was still deep in meditation, or, again, skillfully faking. 

“He made a very bold claim at dinner today. If it's true, the implications are huge… the potential consequences for this war massive. He said the–”

She gestured for Anakin to lower his head so she could whisper into his ear. For a moment, her soft voice and the tingly warm feeling on his ear sent him right back into the parallel universe. What she actually said, on the other hand, brought him right back. 

“What? That's–”

“Not only that, but–” 

There it was again, her warmth and her patience and her kindness, all trapped and taken advantage of in these convoluted circumstances. 

Circumstances that she could maybe, just maybe sort out – if only he would let her. Or rather, accept that she was not his to let. 

“Padmé, I don't trust that man.” 

“I don't trust him, either,” she assured him. “But I might just believe him. The economics of this war have not been adding up for some time, hence the need to make this new loan agreement in the first place. Something is definitely up, and I want to get to the bottom of this.” 

Anakin gave a vague nod. At this point, he mostly just wanted the argument to be over. He cherished these precious few moments with his wife, and would have liked for them all to be like little time capsules of utter bliss and perfection, that he could take with him to the battlefield and turn even rosier in his memory. He didn't want to fight – he already did enough of that and some more with the Separatists. 

But the problem was, he didn't like that “something was up”. He was worried – afraid – that even if Padmé could handle this, he just wouldn't be able to. 

“Okay,” he finally managed to say. 

-

It was not until the next morning that Rush Clovis saw fit to arrive, along with an ever-growing cluster of Muun bankers. 

”Pardon me, I'm confused,” Clovis said, a sardonic smile playing about his lips as he walked up to the pair, and a finally reinvigorated Obi-Wan; eyes decidedly fixed on Anakin. ”Is he a Jedi General or your personal bodyguard?” 

”I'm a person – and I'm here, in person, to guard her,” Anakin responded before Padmé had a chance to. ”From, I don't know, persons.”  
¨  
Padmé shook her head, none too happy with either Clovis or Anakin's idea of a polite greeting.

”Yes… I do personally believe we left off on bad terms last time,” Clovis suddenly switched to diplomat mode. “I am sorry, and eager to rectify the situation. Speaking of situations…” 

He proceeded to explain at length why the Generals were not to leave the planet at the earliest opportunity after all, while also being absolutely prohibited to take part in any business proceedings that involved himself and Senator Amidala. And why, in fact, they would soon be moved to a slightly smaller and less comfortable room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Obi-Wan has a reason to be there, and is not just there to sleep and pretend not to have eyes (what a frustrating chapter to write in that regard agsghfdg)


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't take long for Obi-Wan to assume his very own, famed Negotiator mode, all the while having his lightsaber confiscated and two local officers stationed behind him (but still stopping short of actually touching the Jedi). Anakin, on the receiving end of the same treatment, was looking at him expectantly. 

”Now now, we of course respect the local law,” the Jedi Master conceded, nodding keenly. ”But I should point out that while we as Jedi indeed hold temporary military titles, we are first and foremost peacekeepers, and have come to Scipio acting as such. To ensure Senator Amidala's safety, and indeed keep the peace between–”

Rush Clovis was shaking his head, as though to say 'not good enough', although he himself didn't much seem to enjoy being a voice of opposition. Anakin sensed that the man just wanted them gone. Which didn’t greatly surprise him. 

”Technically, I am off duty,” Obi-Wan then tried. ”The absence of troops should tell you as much. I am here as a friend of Senator Amidala as well as my former Padawan Anakin, and in the interest of–” 

”And what is 'Anakin' here as?” Clovis interjected, making said former Padawan visibly jerk at hearing his first name spoken by 'Rush'. 

For one brief, painfully silent and uncomfortable moment, it seemed like everyone present knew the answer to the question – the look shared by the secret spouses didn't exactly help things – and was forced to wait for a tension-relieving fib provided by the other peacekeeping friend of Senator Amidala. 

Padmé was looking at Anakin with trust in her eyes. But he wasn't sure what to say – he couldn't even quite tell whether he was still angry or just tired at the moment. And for a man who could talk his way out of a black hole, Obi-Wan was really taking his sweet time with this perfectly solid, well-lit planet. 

”Pardon my frankness,” Obi-Wan finally said, ”but I am baffled by your eagerness to have us arrested, when in the interest of smooth negotiations between the Clan and the Republic, it would be better to allow us to leave. You must know you are only looking at a symbolic investigation.” 

Obi-Wan paused for a while, but as soon as one of the Muun representatives drew his breath to speak, the Jedi cut him short, ”I certainly hope you are not hiding anything.”

Anakin sighed. Well, there it was. For once, he should have spoken instead. 

\- 

Anakin found himself wondering if Obi-Wan's bad feeling had disappeared – or if it had gotten stronger, or perhaps already become reality with this whole fiasco. The man was probably still patting himself on the back for questioning Muuns' motives, not realizing there was a time and place for voicing all his supremely clever surmises. But man, did he suddenly miss his Master's company. He couldn't see why they couldn't be placed in the same cell – of course on a planet made of credits, actual lockups were still roomy – and if he wasn't allowed to see Padmé, he'd take Obi-Wan's self-important platitudes over this deafening silence. 

Anakin tried to find his Master in the Force. He wasn't meditating – but not really in a talkative mood, either. 

Padmé, of course, he missed even more. He could sense her too, albeit not in the same way. The way he did sense her still left plenty to the imagination. Was she with Clovis? Was she tossing a drink across his face? Was Teckla handing her a second one? Or… 

Suddenly the Force whisked Anakin right back to Obi-Wan – he was on the move. Drawing closer to Anakin's location, actually – soon to either knock on or pass by this very door. 

-

“We've conducted an initial investigation, Master Kenobi,” the Muun officer said while leading him through the detention block, “and we've confirmed you were indeed off-duty at the time of your arrival. Article 356 suggests–“

“You're letting me go, that's excellent news,” Obi-Wan skipped ahead in the conversation. “And what about my friend Skywalker?” 

“He is unfortunately still being suspected of resisting arrest, trespassing on neutral ground as an acting military officer, and attempted–” 

“Please tell me you're joking. This has gone far enough.”

“Master Kenobi, you are to be escorted to the spaceport immediately, and sent back to Coruscant on one of our special ships.” 

Just as the officer gave this verdict, they passed by the door behind which Obi-Wan sensed Anakin. 

Leaving without Anakin. Leaving him behind to rot in a cell, suspected of completely fictitious crimes. Obi-Wan had rarely liked an idea less, and he had worked together with such free-spirited thinkers as Quinlan Vos and Jar Jar Binks. He didn’t want to admit that he’d tagged along to keep an eye on Anakin… but he’d definitely tagged along to keep an eye on Anakin. His bad feeling had not passed, and it seemed to be slowly taking a more precise – if still fairly hazy – form. Something was about to happen. Something that directly involved Anakin, Senator Amidala, Rush Clovis and… 

Obi-Wan shook his head. No. He was giving too much credit to his bad premonitions. 'Fate of the Republic'… ridiculous. Although, whenever the Chosen One himself was involved… one did wonder. 

Anakin wouldn’t be able to stay still. He would try to break out of the prison – or do something worse. Obi-Wan could easily sense his jealous and possessive feelings. Whatever the Senator was to him – and she was something to him – Padmé was his blind spot. There was no might great enough in the whole wide galaxy, not even the Force itself, to keep him from… Obi-Wan stopped to think of a verb. 

To keep him from… her. 

-

“We accept the new loan agreement,” Padmé declared at the screens transmitting the smug faces of the Core Five. 

Earlier, after being notified on Obi-Wan’s release (and Anakin’s prolonged stay), Padmé had finally decided to hurry things along, and sought a moment of privacy with Clovis to let him finish his shocking testimony. None of it was easy to swallow, but even less easy to ignore. Afterwards, she had sat down with Clovis in an official session, and indeed found the new loan contract to be ostensibly perfect. But she had to admit that without Clovis, she would've never suspected it of being too perfect to be true. It did seem as though the man was actually trying to do right by the Republic this time around. 

Yes… he was being sincere, Padmé could tell. He didn't seem to have orchestrated Anakin and Obi-Wan's arrest, either, like she had initially suspected. Clovis had even joked that he'd rather 'that lovesick Jedi' had not come at all, let alone been forced to stay. Surely… just joked. 

“But we have a few conditions,” she continued, shaking off all the distracting reflections on personal life. “First, I must be allowed to go into the vault while the fund transfer is in progress.”

“That's impossible,” Mak Plain stated in blatant disgust. “No outsider is ever allowed inside the vaults.”

She had learned as much from Clovis, and had all her responses ready. 

“Considering the sensitive circumstances, there’s surely no harm in making an exception. If you have something to hide, then that is something we should discuss.” 

She couldn't help a (hardly noticeable) sly smile. They may have been able to shove Obi-Wan's suspicions into a lockup, then into a spaceship, but she would not budge, not even a little bit. 

“Very well. We will arrange for the transfer to take place tomorrow, and for you to enter the vault while it does.” 

Padmé nodded and went on, “Secondly, once we have signed the contract – at the very latest – you must release General Skywalker and clear him of all these conjectural charges, and thus end these theatrics. Enough damage has been done to the bank-Republic relations, and we can only hope this agreement will go a long way toward mending them.”

“Very well, Senator Amidala. But you must understand he has to remain in place until then.”

Padmé drew a deep breath. She could only hope that he would.

-

By midnight, Anakin's cell had fallen completely dark. He had all the room he could hope for in the circumstances, but not the faintest flicker of light. Ideal place to sleep, an optimist would have said. Of course, he had yet to catch a wink. 

There had to be something wrong with him. 

That's why they had let Obi-Wan go, but not him. He had been the one authorized to go to Scipio – Obi-Wan had tagged along on his day off – and still the older Jedi had been found pure of heart enough to walk, whereas he was being branded some kind of criminal. 

He had not betrayed the Republic. Rush Clovis had. And still Anakin was the one behind bars, while Clovis was off frolicking somewhere with his wife. 

These were poisonous thoughts, Anakin knew that. He didn’t care – what else did he have in the way of company?

But sometimes, Anakin could swear – someone could sense those thoughts. Someone who wanted to encourage them. To turn poisonous thoughts into poisonous action. 

Then again, that someone was probably just himself. 

-

Something about the Chancellor’s eagerness to hear what was sure to be a very damning report bothered Obi-Wan, and he stopped to think about what to say. There was really no sugarcoating it. He could hardly report on how thoroughly he’d enjoyed for once getting a good night’s sleep on a spongy sofa, and give Scipio full marks just for that pleasure. He had little choice but to dutifully explain how and why he and Skywalker had been detained, and one of them remained so, on extremely flimsy ground, when it would have been easier to send them packing. 

Well, somewhat easier. Or perhaps not easier at all. Why was it that with Anakin, there always seemed to be a certain element of inevitability involved?

“They are still holding Skywalker while the agreement is being negotiated?” Senator Organa echoed, dumbfounded. “Does that not go directly against their own directives? Is he still not technically on Scipio ground?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head. 

“His case is being – highly symbolically – investigated. They seem to have made the conscious choice to interpret this article however they please.” 

“And what pleases them is apparently maximum inconvenience for the Republic?” Senator Robb added. “They are the ones causing a diplomatic fiasco. Combined with the fact that they have a known Separatist negotiating the contract, not to mention whatever is going on with their holo signal…” 

The Chancellor nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “We should wait for Senator Amidala’s report before we discuss these developments with the Senate. Let us not be hasty.” 

-

It was not until well into the next morning that the holo signal finally got through to Coruscant. 

”The senators that I’ve spoken with all agree that the Generals' arrest does not reflect well on the Clan while they are about to enter into an agreement with the Republic,” the Chancellor stated gravely. “What began as a simple misunderstanding on our part has transformed into what looks like active conflict-seeking on theirs.” 

”Are you saying, Chancellor,” Padmé inquired with worry, ”that the bankers might be trying to… for whatever reason… sabotage the negotiations?” 

”Now now, my dear, let us not jump into conclusions. You, Senator Amidala, are still free as a bird, and I believe, hold the utmost trust of Representative Clovis. Did you not say that he shared with you some very sensitive information?”

Padmé recounted in detail Clovis' claims about the corrupted state of the Banking Clan, how he suspected the Core Five at least of keeping secret accounts, embezzling from the Republic funds and allowing the Separatists not to pay their interest. She also explained the plan to enter the vault, and secretly download files from the mainframe, which would hopefully provide them with enough proof to incriminate the suspected war profiteers. 

”The trusted Core Five… what an upsetting notion, indeed,” the Chancellor mused. “I agree, Senator, that we must investigate this with great haste. Rush Clovis may be a former traitor to the Republic, but as he stands now, as a neutral party on a neutral ground, he deserves your cautious trust, as an old friend. Please, proceed with your planned mission.” 

Padmé nodded, and the politicians exchanged well-wishes before ending the call. She was, of course, glad to receive the go-ahead from the Supreme Chancellor himself, and she was probably better-prepared than most to find out the truth, and potentially expose a corruption at the heart of such a critically important institution. But somehow… she wasn't really feeling adventurous or intrepid or heroic at all. 

On some days, she just wanted Anakin. On some days, she just wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry I literally have no idea how to remove that end-chapter note I intended for ch.1 only lol help a newbie out??


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because I'm a newb, I only just now figured out how to do italics and other _ADVANCED_ stuff on here.
> 
> so I might update the previous chapters at some point pretty much ONLY to add italics so that... any new readers will have an easier time telling where the emphasis is? :D idk, lol.

“My Lord,” Dooku greeted with his usual placid and deferential tone – although secretly, he really wanted to raise an eyebrow, at least.

He might have been mistaken, for it was such an unlikely scenario – but Sidious appeared frustrated. As though the Sith lord was about to stamp his foot and burst out screaming, ”Do you have _any_ idea how long I've been trying to call?!”

Sidious' voice and manner, naturally, still held the perfect composure as he spoke, ”Lord Tyranus, the first stage of our plan is almost completed, and it's time you removed yourself from that troublesome planet. Primitive contraptions indeed, these holograms… relying on such a fragile structure.”

Dooku wasn't certain, but it was almost as though his master was trying to say, ”Even with my immense Force abilities, I still haven't found a way to control the holo signal.”

-

  
This time Padmé didn't greet her husband mouth first. She greeted Anakin with an embrace. A long, warm, loving embrace. Gone was the dark of night, gone were his darker thoughts. In was the blaze of morning, the scent of her… freshly conditioned hair. Yeah, he'd have to work on his poetic prowess.

”They allowed you to retrieve me alone?”

As she withdrew from the hug, Padmé gave him a very curious look. She seemed to be still assessing his mood, which made Anakin feel very guilty. He still deeply regretted blowing up at her back at the detention, uh, hostel – she had not deserved that. He tried very hard not to recall what the fight had been about, but just as he unfortunately remembered, she gave him a playful grin – apparently having made a very favorable appraisal of his state of mind.

”Better. I asked for a few minutes alone with you in this very cell. To, uh… well… _scold_ you.”

She brandished the cell keys, her grin transforming into a mischievous smirk, ”You know… collegially.”

Anakin gaped. He must have fallen asleep after all, for he could have only dreamt up such an utterly sublime and blissful morning. He reached to scratch his head, wondering if he was even the same person he had been last night. Did that person have a perfect life – or a perfect wife? Or the ability to laugh at accidental rhyming?

”Oh, I'm sorry, you must hate this little coop by now,” Padmé deduced as Anakin was still taking his time to react, though she did seem to find the cell quite remarkably nice and tidy, “I understand if you don't–”

”No no, no no,” Anakin hurried to clarify. He took a cautious step closer, then suddenly reached out both his arms to lift his petite wife into the air in one, sweeping motion. ”I thought its greatest defect really, was not having you in it.”

Airborne, Padmé slammed the door shut with her heel, tossing the keys into the farthermost corner.

”Can you show me where, specifically, you would have wanted me?”

-

It had actually taken Teckla and Typho quite a while to collect all the clone troopers that had arrived with Padmé from the spaceport – or more specifically, all the various bars, nightclubs and hotels surrounding the spaceport. The squad members had apparently taken full advantage of the prolonged nature of the Senator's visit, and decided to live a little while they could. They did seem to have caught wind of General Skywalker's plight, and saluted him a little too deliberately as he arrived.

Padmé was still gauging Anakin's reactions, although she knew the General to always treat the troopers with respect, and he had already somehow managed to walk side by side with Rush Clovis and the rest of the party all the way to the two ships that had carried them here. Their stolen moment of pleasure an hour earlier had probably smoothed things over – but now he again seemed to be carrying a more severe, unsettled air. Sometimes Padmé wondered if she was actually Force-sensitive too, in very limited capacity – only sensitive to the Force surrounding and flowing through her dear, imperfect husband.

It was time to decide who would go home on which ship. Teckla, Typho and the clone troopers already had their feet pointing towards Padmé's star skiff. Padmé, Anakin and Clovis all seemed to be caught in a game of who could stay silent the longest, before one of them would have to make the initiative.

That somebody turned out to be Anakin.

“Senator Amidala, Representative Clovis…” it seemed to require physical effort from Anakin to form the next sentence. Even the troopers looked uncomfortable. “I'm sure you have… much to discuss… in regards to those data files. Please – the Twilight – my –“

“Thank you so much, General Skywalker, for the kind invitation,” Padmé relieved him of his misery. As the party began to split into two, Padmé insisted on thanking Teckla and Typho personally one more time before they got into the ship, leaving Anakin and Clovis to head over to the Twilight alone.

-

“Well, come one then,” Anakin spat at Clovis, striding along two or three steps ahead of his passenger.

”You know,” Clovis said, seeing the Jedi's shoulders stiffen at the sound of his voice, “it's really quite endearing, seeing you trying to behave for Padmé's sake. Look at yourself. You're coming apart at the seams trying not to punch me in the face. Why don't you just get it out of your system, show her who you really are.”

Anakin said nothing, but in a significant gesture, opened his fists at his sides and stretched them. As he did, one of them seemed to make a funny clanking noise.

“Oh, that's right,” Clovis pressed on, aware that he was hitting below the belt, but unable to control himself, “you barely made it out of _this_ system.”

”You don't know anything about me,” the General shot back.

”I know you're in love with Padmé.”

”As I said…” he spun around to stand in front of Clovis, stopping his advance. ”You really don't know a thing about me... _or_ her.” The General slightly inclined his head towards the woman they both loved, who was presently bursting out laughing so hard at something a trooper had said, she had to lean on Teckla's shoulder.

Clovis said nothing. The General marched off to open the doors to his freighter.

”I'm telling you. Not a thing.”

-

As Padmé had feared, Anakin appeared to have been hit with another pang of jealousy as soon as he had once more laid eyes on Rush Clovis. She couldn't help but resenting him ever so slightly, for making her far too distracted to really concentrate on the all-important data analysis with Clovis – Anakin was upset enough to have put his treasured freighter on auto-pilot at the earliest opportunity, even though he loved flying. Instead, he had sat on the floor behind the passenger seats, and opened at least ten wall compartments since they had set off. He was fervently delving through them, either searching or pretending to be searching for something.

“Padmé,” Clovis momentarily tore his eyes from the data processing unit, “General Skywalker,” Anakin twitched on the floor and immediately got his finger stuck between something, “On behalf of my Muun brothers, I apologize for the... trouble.”

Anakin slightly craned his neck, just enough to acknowledge the apology with something that definitely wasn't a smile. Then he momentarily turned towards Padmé, and did smile, in a very special way. He had probably just thought of his cell, the mess they had left behind, and the reason for said mess.

“Think nothing of it, Representative Clovis. Congratulations on successfully completing your mission.”

“Well,” Clovis said, “the first stage, anyway. Senator Amidala and I still need to–“

“Analyze the files, got it,” Anakin cut him short, his special smile gone. “Just pretend I'm not even here.”

About halfway through their hyperspace journey, a miracle happened – Rush Clovis fell asleep on the seat. The files had proved more well-protected and harder to crack than he and Padmé had expected – and the man had barely slept last night, either, too busy trying to convince Padmé to try the punch at the loan contract celebration. Padmé had tried everything but the punch – somewhere in the back of her mind, the poison trauma was still there.

Padmé couldn't help but find the situation a bit amusing – this was really the only way she and Anakin could have a private conversation these days, with the third wheel knocked out cold?

”Are you okay, Anakin?”

Anakin looked up at her, surprised. He gestured towards Clovis as though to ask, “Are you sure he's asleep?”

“Oh, he's asleep,” Padmé laughed, knowing her old friend like a pocket on a worn-out dress. “Can't you feel things like that through the Force?”

“Trust me Padmé, I'd rather not feel whatever things or forces float around him.”

Padmé sighed. “I feel like you are going through those toolboxes in a highly passive-aggressive manner.”

”No. I'm going through these toolboxes because I need to find a tool.”

”What tool?”

”CMT Model 87G electro-wrench. To connect F8-series part 399 with a Signal Stabilizer. That I invented.”

Padmé's expression was blank, although the word 'signal' seemed to be awakening something.

”Padmé,” Anakin then began slowly, looking guilty. He stopped what he was doing to look her straight in the eye. “The thing is… I kinda broke out of my cell last night.”

Padmé stared at him.

“A-and locked myself back in,” he rushed to add. “Obviously.”

Padmé opened her mouth, eyes already fierce, but Anakin hurried to further elaborate, ”Not to spy on you. Not to spy on,” he grudgingly pointed his chin at the seat next to her, ”Clovis.” 

”How–”

”Ah, you know, a mind trick here, grab-the-keys-with-the-Force there…”

Padmé momentarily froze in place, her hands up in an incredulous gesture, blinking violently at the flashing buttons on the ceiling.

”Anakin… what did you do?”

”I climbed to the top of the main reception tower in the city.”

Padmé stared at him some more. She quickly did the math: the reception tower was that tall and highly conspicuous construction on the outskirts of the city… at least 10 klicks from the detention center.

”You… climbed on top of it?” She skipped the question of 'how' this time. A Jedi trick here, superhuman ability there… “To do what?” she figured out the answer before Anakin had a chance to provide it, ”To try and stabilize the signal.”

”That's right,” Anakin nodded. ”And I think I succeeded… to an extent. I thought I had at least two 87's right here…” He plunged his hand into one of the toolboxes, coming across a laced piece of clothing instead. “But they must be in my quarters at the temple.”

”Anakin,” Padmé huffed, leaving her seat to join him on the floor, and grab the laced piece of clothing, “I'm sure they have perfectly qualified professionals on Scipio…”

”Didn't you say they've been plagued by bad signal for a few weeks? And no one's fixed it. I can. I know exactly what to do. Once I get an 87.”

”Anakin, you can't go back to Scipio. The last time you went, it almost caused a diplomatic disaster.”

”Because they had bad reception.”

Padmé couldn't exactly argue – at least not for the moment – but Anakin had lots of ammo prepared.

”You go on all kinds of unauthorized missions all the time. You just stole data files–”

”Anakin.”

”At least I'm trying to help people here, not expose them for something. You know, the little people who can't even contact their relatives–”

”Oh, _that's_ the reason you need to do this? And not because I'm working with Clovis? Not because you need to,” she closed her eyes, already regretting what she was about to say, ”Compare sizes?”

Anakin gaped.

”It really wouldn't be much of a–” 

”I can't talk about this right now,” she finally declared, going back to her seat. She lowered the front of her headpiece so that it covered her eyes, and leaned comfortably against the head cushion. ”And you know what? We don't even have to _expose_ anyone. You've already made the contract technically invalid, because you broke out. Did you know that was actually on the contract? Thanks for making my job easier.”

-

Of course Anakin wanted to show his wife that he was good for something. Of course he wanted to show Clovis that he was good for something. He needed to show the whole galaxy – including himself. And if he could do it by helping people - he failed to see the issue here. The banks were about to go down anyway – if the offense mattered little the first time, it would matter even less now. Would it not be the ultimate sign of trust to leave his wife on Coruscant to work with Clovis? Besides, this time, he'd make sure not to wind up behind bars.

“Skywalker, honestly, with your track record of winding up behind bars…” Master Windu’s stern voice almost made Anakin hit a wall beam. Sometimes he just hated the Senate building – just like with his cell, the addition of Padmé made all the difference. Anakin spun around, arranging his face into a neutral, deferential expression to greet the Jedi masters.

“Adventures have you had on Scipio, hmm?” Master Yoda teased.

“I suppose,” Anakin responded, a bit embarrassed. “Thank you,” he added, without understanding why. The cluster of council members walked past him with an air of importance, and, as he did somehow manage to walk headfirst into the wall beam, were given a convenient excuse to shake their heads.

Anakin was still rubbing the slight burn on his forehead, when the Chancellor appeared and immediately glided over to meet the Jedi Knight.

“My dear boy,” he greeted, “how utterly unfairly indeed they treated you on Scipio. I am ever so relieved to see you return unharmed.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Anakin said with a nod. “I was just trying to complete my assignment, which was to confirm Senator Amidala's safety.”

“Of course you were. If you did lose your temper, you were well within your rights.”

Anakin gave a slight smile. The elderly man was as understanding as always. But as the Chancellor continued to make a bigger and bigger fuss about the importance of Anakin's safety and the Scipians' appalling treatment of him, Anakin came to realize that he couldn't possibly ask him to authorize a covert mission to such a treacherous ground. Of course, he couldn't ask the Council either – they thought it a miracle he even made it out the first time.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t go, only to get arrested a second time. Ahsoka– how much longer ‘till he stopped doing this?

Anakin was on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

”Have you seen my 87’s?!” Anakin demanded from Obi-Wan before the Jedi Master had barely taken a step into his former Padawan’s temple quarters.

Obi-Wan tilted his head, not entirely thrilled with what he was looking at. Tousled hair sounded too deliberate, too carefully arranged into some roguishly appealing look – no, this was disheveled hair, framing a pair of red-black under-eyes and a matching scowl. 

“Your eighty-sevens?” Obi-Wan echoed, as Anakin didn’t bother waiting for an answer, and instead dove headfirst into an already half-scoured drawer, and started tossing things out, “Well that depends. Would that be the 87 times you've crashed your ship within the last week?”

“Ha, ha,” Anakin interjected, now doing some sort of handstand on top of the only barely heavy enough piece of furniture, and still somehow managing to rummage the contents.

“Or the 87 times you’ve already rolled your eyes at me during this conversation? In both of which cases, yes, I was there to witness it.”

“Ha. _Ha._ ”

“Or could you possibly be referring to the 87 conversations we haven’t had about you and Senator Amidala?”

Anakin turned his head, but Obi-Wan was having trouble taking him seriously in his present position; hands gripping on the drawer edges, toes almost hitting the ceiling, Jedi tunics and undershirts falling all over his reddening face. The Jedi Master shook his head, with fondness. Was it beneath the Chosen One to do something like a regular person? At least he once used to find new and exciting ways to assert his maverick status. Now the attempts were just getting more mundane and desperate.  

“Anakin, get down from there.”

At his Master’s orders, Anakin performed his 88th crash landing within the last week, making Obi-Wan grin and shake his head. The younger Jedi just gave a 'go on, if you dare' sort of gesture with as much dignity as he could muster.

Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders - he needed to do some mustering of his own - and while he did, Anakin took shelter behind his tinkering table. He grabbed a seemingly random tool and challenged it to a staring contest.  

“Anakin, you’ve met Satine,” Obi-Wan finally began. “You know I once harbored… feelings for her.” The Jedi Master sighed, already exhausted, wondering how deeply he would have to delve into this topic until he got something out of Anakin. The boy's shields were up - which in itself was an indication of something. 

“It’s not that we’re not allowed to have these feelings. It’s… natural.” 

Anakin made a barely audible, frustrated sound. Obi-Wan felt that this conversation was dangerously close to turning into another generic lecture about attachments - which Anakin seemed to all but tune out these days - not to mention an excavation of some painful memories of his own. He'd have to try something new. The 'fate of the Republic' could be at stake, according to his bad feeling anyway - and if that turned out not to be the case in the end, well, then he would formally renounce feelings for all eternity. 

On a whim, Obi-Wan spluttered out a string of words that neither Anakin nor himself could make out. 

“What?”

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath.

“What exactly is the nature of the relationship between you and… Padmé?”

Anakin stared at him, with caution in his eyes, although it seemed the outermost layer of surprise had been scraped off by Obi-Wan’s initial forewarning. He now sat down behind the table, holding in his hand some kind of model spaceship. He peered inside the minuscule cockpit, pulled out some sort of funny-looking wrench, then put it down in obvious disappointment.

“A 44 won’t cut it,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Anakin, answer the question.”

“You didn't answer mine. For your information," he brandished the tiny tool like a weapon, "a 87 looks like this, but bigger, and with a sort of a mount between the jaws. Oh, and the Senator and I are just friends.” 

Obi-Wan scratched his head, wishing he had written down the lines he had thought up in the shower this morning. He had tried to approach the topic softly; tried to – as they called it – _relate_ to him. What could he have possibly done with Padmé that he had not with Satine? 

“Anakin, I have eyes.”

“Yes, Master, and let me just say, that dreary tunic really brings out the color.”

_Dreary?_ Obi-Wan clasped the hem instinctively. So uncalled-for... 

“I can sense that you’re upset about her working with Rush Clovis.” 

This at least brought about a reaction - an immediate one - as Anakin slammed another bewildering piece of durasteel against the table. 

“Last time they worked together,” Anakin snarled, “he almost got Senator Amidala killed, and I would’ve been responsible.”

“How so? She is her own person, and responsible for her own life.” 

Anakin glared at him, recognizing the insinuation. 

“What do you expect me to say?” he scoffed, before a very curious expression spread on his features. He paused for a moment, and his voice faltered ever so slightly as he added, without blinking, “That we have been secretly married for the past two years? Hoping to start a little family once this blasted war finally ends? To hell with the Order and their rules?”

The words startled Obi-Wan before he fully registered their meaning. But as soon as he did, he began examining them more closely. There were two options really: this was pure, unadulterated sarcasm, a form of communication he himself was dearly fond of. Or this was the so-called ‘lying by telling the truth’ ploy, a maneuver he had also used in the past. Usually very effective… _usually._

“...Alright then,” Obi-Wan said simply, trying to process the notion. “Big wedding?" 

Anakin seemed to think they were still trading jokes. 

“Bit noisy."

"Noisy?"

"Threepio wouldn't stop making speeches." 

And perhaps they were? A tinge of doubt seeped into Obi-Wan’s mind. It was just too ridiculous, too bold, even of him. Not to mention the very level-headed Senator… _no._  The insolent kid was just trying to avoid another scolding by playing off the whole thing as a joke altogether.

Anakin, a married man? For two years… before even being knighted? Marriage – with a ceremony! Official documents! Probably some kind of symbolic jewelry… and a devotion far more passionate, far more selfish than that of serving the Galaxy. If it _was_ the truth, there was no sermon spectacular enough that he could give. Why had he _ever_ bothered? This whelp was already laughing soundlessly in his face, and so was that wily politician… his supposed wife. His _wife!_

Obi-Wan mentally shook his head for even having entertained the idea. _Something_ was going on between them, that much was for certain, but this… this was too much.

“Very good, Anakin, you can quit making fun of me now.” 

-

  
Clovis closed his eyes and tried again. A lot was riding on the success of this investigation. A good majority of the Senators didn’t trust him, his colleagues would sooner or later find out he was attempting to bring them down, a Jedi Knight was most likely plotting his murder, and Padmé...   

_No_ – most importantly, for once in his life, for the love of everything the war had not yet tainted… he wanted to do the right thing. 

The analysis sounded a bleep on its arrival.

It had come up blank again. 

“Clovis, I’m exhausted,” Padmé confessed, getting up from the couch and walking up to the window. “Please, answer me honestly – is the evidence adequate? Is it enough to convict the Core Five?”

Clovis thought about the question long and hard, leaning his head on his fist, until his knuckles almost penetrated the skin on his lower jaw.

“It’s… it's enough to bring them to trial.”

Padmé spun around, running her fingers through her fairly simple, curled hairstyle.

“And when they do stand trial…” she twirled a ringlet around her finger. 

“Padmé, I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” Clovis confessed, no longer bothering to hide his concern. He made a frustrated wave at the screen, “I think… I think this might be the wrong file. It shows that the accounts exists, and that they’re not grouped with the regular accounts, and have some special features… but it won't display any details, and it -well, you can't see the money flowing from the Republic account to these ones. They can simply insist that these are just some empty accounts they created as a spare, or something. We can keep digging further, but…”

“Nothing will likely turn up. I understand,” Padmé said, turning her head away. Clovis put down the processor and went up to join her at the window. She was very evidently keeping a professional distance, but, like Clovis, seemed to have dropped some of her politician's pretenses of self-possession and stoicism.

“What are we going to do, Clovis? Even if they fail to notice the stolen files, they'll never let us into the vault again.”

Clovis gave a deep sigh, motioning restlessly without saying anything, until Padmé was compelled to ask him what he was thinking about.

“The thing is, Padmé… I don't think the Senate even needs proof. I don't think they'll wait for proof.”

“Why would you think that?” Padmé questioned, sounding almost shocked – or affronted.

“You saw how they welcomed me. Everything from 'This is a most interesting development'” to… 'we will keep a watchful eye on you, Clovis'. They still see me as a traitor and a Separatist. They probably think I'm trying to hide the evidence, with- with some kind of reverse psychology trick. What I'm trying to say is, they don't want the evidence from me. Should we manage to acquire it, they'll only accept it because of you, because you're here to legitimize it.”

Padmé lowered her eyes, nodding gravely as she stroked her embroidered blue sleeve.

“But trust me,” Clovis went on, “they _will_ get the evidence. They'll find a way into that vault alright. You see, it's not just me they despise. It's not just the Core Five that they don't trust. You've already heard the whispers, haven't you? They hate my home and my people, and seem to think we want to pick a fight with the Republic.”

“Clovis, that's–“ Padmé began, now definitely shocked and affronted. Clovis just shook his head.

“There are already rumors going around about what's really going on with our holo signal. It's all over the holonet. They're saying the Clan as well as the police department employ private networks to communicate in secret, and that all the mechanics are all bribed into not doing anything. And why is our law enforcement suddenly under suspicion? Any guesses? Why, it is because a pair of Jedi Generals recently got themselves arrested. Your Senate now believes all our laws archaic and worthless - and no doubt, cannot wait for an excuse to invade Scipio and instate the Republic constitution at the earliest opportunity. Some sources have already speculated that Skywalker's imprisonment was some kind of open declaration of war – which we haven't been able to correct, and you know why? Because of the connectivity issues. It's a vicious circle." 

Clovis paused, but not nearly long enough for Padmé to interject. In fervor, he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, causing her to recoil and look away, “You have heard the whispers, right? Or have you just willfully turned your head away, as you Republic Senators always do? For pity's sake…I overheard the Supreme Chancellor himself badmouthing the Muuns and making a fuss over his golden boy Skywalker. He is the most powerful person in the Galaxy, Padmé, and if that is what he thinks of my Muun brothers...”

Padmé was still silent, but her expression seemed to betray more knowledge than she let on. Before Clovis could question her about it, she spoke instead, “Clovis, I don't pretend to have all the answers or even the consolations. So forgive me if I ask you a question instead. Something I still don't understand.”

“Do tell.”

“General Kenobi told me that the law is still technically valid, but mostly overlooked, and, I imagine, rarely ever applicable. Why, in this rare case when it did apply, was it then enforced? Who brought it up? And how did it all turn into such a complete and utter farce? I'm afraid I was too busy with the contract on Scipio to truly appreciate who was responsible.”

Clovis sighed, trying to buy himself some time to calculate what parts of the truth he wanted to tell – as well as ponder if he even knew the entirety of it.

  
It had all begun when he had – rudely – eavesdropped on Padmé after she had initially refused to cooperate with him, only to learn that her holo call to Coruscant hadn't gotten through. She had surmised that the Senate would suspect trouble and send 'help' – which in the Republic's case, always seemed to mean a pair of 'peacekeepers' with rock-levitating abilities. He had surmised that because Padmé was involved, said help would most certainly turn out to be General Skywalker, with whom he'd already had one mutually unpleasant encounter – whom he had since looked into – just enough to confirm his suspicion that the man was neither a mere pilot nor in any way indifferent to Padmé Amidala. 

For a moment, he had accepted the man's arrival as a necessary evil – like a tropical storm on a planet one had studied and still chosen to live on – until he’d realized it wasn’t just his face the gale would whisk against.

He had studied Scipian law long and meticulously. He had worked hard to acquire this position. He’d always been driven and diligent, he had memorized every letter, even the most nugatory footnotes – because he was going to be a hero; because he was personally going to make sure that the negotiations with the Republic would proceed smoothly, whether or not there would be a corruption to expose. He would regain Republic's trust as their representative. He would do everything right, and nothing, _nothing_ – no trifling detail nor full-blown scandal – was going to jeopardize that.

That's when he had remembered one of those trifling details – Article 356; the correct negotiation protocol. What if someone else had done their homework? What if the trifling detail was a full-blown scandal just waiting to happen?  What if there was just one high-ranking Muun official who shared that overzealous servant boy’s sensibilities? _No_ – not on his watch – preventing any and all of such scenarios was his personal responsibility.

The fact that it would probably be Skywalker he'd get to send packing was just an added bonus.

Of course, he wouldn’t be there personally. The Jedi he expected to welcome (not) didn't seem like the rule-abiding type, and he definitely wouldn't take any orders from him. He was better off keeping this from Padmé as well – namely, the fact that he had personally made sure a Republic scout wouldn't be allowed to ascertain her safety – law-based reason or not, he had yet to regain her trust. 

Clovis had sent an anonymous memo with the Clan’s signet to one of the lower-level assistants, with an order to contact the law enforcement and have them deport the Jedi on their arrival. Padmé would only find out much later, and none of this could be traced back to him. 

What had happened at the spaceport, he still didn’t know. He did suspect the Jedi to be violent, if not downright psychotic. If he had refused to leave, his arrest had probably been unavoidable  – much like bad weather. But even then, Clovis had never expected the police to cling onto an archaic law with such stubbornness, to the point of tainting and almost spoiling the contract negotiation.

He knew that the Clan held power even the police department – hence their ability to finally incorporate Skywalker's release into the contract – so why even have a symbolic investigation? Why even hold him at all, if he was just going to be released anyway without charges? 

He had to admit, it did almost seem like someone was purposely trying to cause a public outcry. 

As well as a personal one. For Clovis was still convinced he’d eventually have to brave a full-blown hurricane; one with a personal vendetta against a mountain cabin that had already crumbled once and only newly been rebuilt.

They had also released the other Jedi, Kenobi, early. Why only him? What were the odds that someone else, besides himself, had a personal aversion to General Skywalker, and wanted to go about expressing it in the completely opposite way? Pretty high, now that he thought about it. But really, what was the point of angering an already angry man – who would benefit from that anger? What was the use? 

“Padmé, I… I don't know.”

-

At midnight, in his quarters, Clovis was roused by a surprise visitor – or wherever life-sized holograms landed on the sliding scale of trespassing.

“Hello, Clovis. Have you had your fill of desperation? Would you quite prefer acquiring the correct data, exposing the full extent of the Banking Clan's corruption in a single, easily accessible file?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nervous about this chapter! but you know I had to tackle… _that scene_ from canon. even if this is something of a fix-it fic, I can't make anyone look _too good_ or just up and erase established character flaws, so… here we go. I promise this is still a fix-it, ahahahaha…

For once in his life, for the good of everything not yet tainted by the war… Rush Clovis had done the right thing. He had made the right call. And he was at last reaping the well-deserved rewards. 

It had all happened in a heartbeat. He had been a hair trigger away from choosing wrong. Dooku had made him an enticing offer – take the file, play dumb about its origins, convict the Core Five, secure at least a significant position in shaping the future of the banks. He had made it sound so easy – and oh, so tempting. Padmé would have never known. No one would have ever found out. 

But something – the faintest feeling of unease, of too-good-to-be-true – had stopped him. The impulse was there, ready to be indulged, but so was his ability to think twice, and think logically. Dooku was a Separatist – Clovis a traitor to their cause. No matter how convincing the Count's arguments, how silver his tongue, he had to have some kind of hidden agenda. And as far as hidden agendas went, this one was beginning to look more and more obvious. Dooku was planning to make him into some kind of puppet. Failing to mention the Separatist involvement in acquiring the correct file would make him a co-conspirator, if not effectively a reborn Separatist, and that would give Dooku leverage over him. And he had vowed to never again let himself be used this way.

But then – they needed that file. They needed it desperately, in order for any legal action or re-shaping of the banks to take place at all. And if Dooku himself had gone to the trouble of getting hold of it, he would have also made sure there would be no other copies, no other way of getting it except through his deceitful hand.

And as soon as Clovis had snapped back to reality – he had already thought about this too long – he had known exactly what to do. He would have the Jogan fruit cake and eat it too. He would take the file – and expose Dooku. 

Instead of looking like a partner in crime, he'd be a hero. He would have successfully outsmarted the Count and the Separatists – he would have been honest. He would have been clever. He would have been worthy of the Republic's trust. 

The moment he had held out his hand to accept the data file from Dooku, he had already seen his future play out before his eyes, as though in a vision. He would tell Padmé first. They would look at the file together and confirm its valuable contents. Padmé would not want to kiss him – not yet – not before sharing the good news with the Chancellor and granting Clovis a chance to explain himself. Besides exposing the crimes of the Core Five, he would expose the Separatist scheme to make him a co-conspirator, and he would gain the Chancellor's trust for his honesty. The Senate would be suspicious at first – but also impressed. 

This is how the Clan ought to deal with the Separatists in the future, he would say – in the spirit of cooperation, without dancing to their fancies. With honesty and transparency. Rising above any and all attempts at deception. He was not afraid of them – neither should you be. 

A task team would be dispatched to Scipio to apprehend and convict the Five. Meanwhile on Coruscant, there would be a vote. A vote to determine the next Head of the Clan. Someone already familiar with Scipio and the inner workings of the bank system. Someone wise, and impartial. Someone of strong backbone.

Someone like him, Rush Clovis. 

So when all of this had transpired exactly like he had pictured it, it had felt like a playback of a favorite holonovela. One with – hopefully – a romantic ending.

-

It was a 'so glad you're here with me' kind of kiss. Anakin could feel it – sense it. _And not anywhere else. So glad I'm not anywhere else. There's nothing else that matters – just you and me. Please believe me._

Her lips tasted as sweet and soft as always – she was as angelically beautiful as always. But there was a distance between them, even as their bodies writhed closer and closer. (Still fully clothed. They were at a party, and at any given time someone could mistake this maintenance closet for a fresher and empty the shaken contents of their stomach on them.) 

The distance had nothing to do with their present whereabouts – they were used to hiding and fibbing, and even found a certain thrill in these adventures. It was an intangible distance – Anakin could sense it in her unspoken words. She was telling him not to go – no, she knew he had to. But she was telling him not to go anywhere he couldn't come back from. Nowhere where he would be out of options – where the only road to take was the wrong one. And she was urging him to trust her – but it felt as though she didn't trust him.

“You never did go to Scipio,” she whispered as she withdrew from another little taste of alternate reality. Anakin sighed, disappointed. Had she already had enough of this deceptive ecstasy? Why the hurry to return to the real world? Back to this puny, dingy closet? Why couldn't she have kept kissing him and let him sulk in secrecy?

“I finally figured out where I'd put my 87's," Anakin answered dutifully. "They were in the cockpit.” 

“What?”

Anakin mentally rolled his eyes as he suddenly remembered one of Obi-Wan's wisecracks from a few weeks back.

“When I… when I crashed, about two months ago. I'd been fixing the ship's intercom system, and they were in the cockpit. Cockpit was destroyed… you know... just one of those days.”

His wife made an expression that seemed to indicate that _no_ , she did not know those days, but she did dread them – if those days meant her husband in life-threatening danger that she was only now learning about. 

She almost kissed him out of sheer belated relief, before remembering she needed to punish him for the very same reason.

“But you haven't purchased a replacement,” she pointed out.  

Anakin shook his head.

“I really prefer working with self-built tools these days. And no, I haven't finished constructing the replacement.” Padmé gaped at him. Two can play this punishment game, Anakin thought as he added, “Just haven't been able to get away from the field. Almost lost a leg last night.”

“Anakin, I've told you,” Padmé huffed, feigning indifference at Anakin's battlefront stories. “The signal has been much better since you… did something to it. The local professionals have been alerted. You don't need to go there again. Clovis starts in office in a few days' time, which will signal the start of yet another round of negotiations, then another, then another. Silly regulation or not, you could get arrested again, and you've already made a bad name for yourself over there. Last time the blame fell on Scipio. This time, it'll be on you. You're planning to break into their property and trample all over a law that's already caused us enough problems. You're interfering with my job, Anakin. Whatever you do will reflect on all of us. The Republic, the Order… _and_ you!”

Anakin stared at her in silence. Truth was, he himself didn't quite understand why he was digging himself deeper and deeper into this hole. He had long since ceased to be able to quite distinguish between 'strong interest' and' unhealthy obsession', but he suspected his 'strong interest' in the tower was starting to fall under the latter category. Still, recognizing it as such did nothing to quench the obsession. He had already almost ruined something – so he needed to fix twice as good. Two negatives would make a positive. He had disrespected a law? He'd disrespect it again if it meant mending something far more consequential than hurt feelings. 

“I don't understand why you're being so underhanded about this," Padmé went on. "Look at Clovis and his honesty. And he worked so hard to mend the Scipio-Republic relations, too!”

Anakin jerked back. There it was – that cursed name, that taboo word that he had already ignored once during the course of this conversation. Thrown right at his face – where it bounced off and curved over to hit him below the belt. He could no longer find words – but he was _angry_ – at _something_. At someone. Clovis. Yes, obviously Clovis. That serpent had been leaving a trail of drool behind Padmé's every step for weeks now – he had been shaking her hand at inappropriate times, in an inappropriate manner. He had been casting Anakin knowing glances - “See, she has other _interests_ than you. Yes, that's a banking pun.” Anakin had barely been holding himself together – drowning himself in dangerous, important and trivial missions – it didn't matter which kind – and in his pet project, a Skywalker Original that he could use to fix a stupid connectivity issue on Clovis's stupid planet – and never be thanked. 

But to have to hear from his wife that Clovis – a traitor and a creep – was better than him, her husband – why did it sting this bad? Why did it immediately jumble his deck of sabacc, and spread it on the floor like it had been soaked in rhydonium and was waiting to be set on fire? 

Anakin didn't respond, although his nostrils visibly flaring was probably enough of a response. He whirled around in the small space to peek out of the keyhole. The entire party crowd had their backs turned to their direction, presently listening to a speech given by – wouldn't you know it – the newly instated head of the Banking Clan. Anakin narrowed his eyes to catch a better view. Clovis's gaze was scanning through the audience – searching for Padmé, who else.

“You should probably go first,” Anakin suggested, knowing nobody would miss him whether he chose to wait five minutes or five hours before exiting their secret hideout. 

-

“Padmé,” Clovis beamed as he darted off the stage to meet his colleague. The audience was still clapping. Padmé took two steps back, but gave a slight smile.

“Again, congratulations,” she said. “What are you planning to-”

Whatever Clovis was planning, it was not a conversation. And whatever he was planning, he was planning to do right then and there, in front of all these people. He was planning on marking his territory – that a certain overstepping Jedi was not here to protect.

  
But he was making a grave mistake – in supposing Padmé needed protection. She didn't even need a plan – she was going to embarrass him in public, without hesitation.

But Clovis had evidently been prepared – at the last justifiable moment, he managed to transform his attempted kiss into a friendly-looking whisper, like one used to tell an inside joke. The crowds stared – most of them probably still seeing a pair of chummy colleagues. Some of them maybe exchanged significant looks – suspected something between them. 

But Padmé knew. She knew what Clovis had meant to do. And suddenly she felt quite uncomfortable. 

But she also knew she had just lectured Anakin on the importance of diplomacy – told him not to do anything to risk good relations between the Republic and the banks – and she knew, she couldn't either. She couldn't tell Clovis to leave – not here, not like this. 

Anakin might have been childish to storm off like he had – but suddenly she couldn't wait to quit this party. Suddenly she couldn't wait for all of this to be over.

-

  
”General Kenobi. Are you on your way to see Anakin as well?” Padmé gave a slight smile, to hide her frustration. ”Do I have to get in line?”

Obi-Wan stared at Padmé for quite a while before he answered, which would have probably made her nervous, had his expression not been so completely blank and unreadable.

”I shall grant your priority, Senator.” 

Or perhaps it was perfectly readable. Padmé felt her cheeks warm up, pretending to fix her hair to hide the scarlet. The enigmatic Jedi Master would make comments like this every once in a while – comments that said everything, yet compelled no further discussion. Still – something in his manner seemed to have shifted. But that was as far as Padmé could judge, without the Force, or a more intimate acquaintance with the closed-off man. 

Padme cleared her throat. ”Have you been in contact with him lately? I'm afraid Scipio has been weighing hard on him, and I, um... feel partially responsible.”

Ever since Scipio, Anakin had thrown himself on an unprecedented number of mandatory and voluntary missions, all but locked himself into his quarters in his spare time, and hardly spoken to anyone. She had shared the bed with him on a few nights, stolen a kiss or an embrace when she could, but even then – it had felt like he had been there, but hadn't been there. Like he had been but an apparition.

Now he was back from yet another mission, fixing up his starfighter - or possibly plotting his next arrest. 

”Last time we spoke, he was looking for something called an '87'," Kenobi replied. "Some kind of… hammer, I think?”

Padmé sighed. Definitely still plotting his next arrest. 

”It's a type of wrench," Padmé corrected. "And did you ask him what he needed that for?” 

Obi-Wan stared at her in silence again, opening his mouth several times, as though trying to choose between three or four either equally good or equally bad responses.

” _That_ … I did _not_ ask him.”

Padmé nodded, not all that inclined to inquire what Obi-Wan _had_ asked Anakin. The man could only blame himself - _he_ was none too open nor talkative. She and Anakin were aware that Obi-Wan knew about them on some level, and was both too kind-hearted and too apathetic to say or do anything – to them, or about them. 

And if he were to do so, one day, Padmé found herself hypothesizing - her first response would probably be that of fight or flight – a last desperate denial, perhaps. But in the end - she knew that it wouldn't last. Because she also knew that she and Anakin could have really used an ally – a friend. A friend who admitted to being their friend. 

”Well, if you had – you would know that he's planning to do something ill-advised.” 

Obi-Wan didn't seem surprised by this revelation – in fact, he seemed to have just learned that space was indeed vast – but he also didn't seem to take well to the criticism directed at him. He studied her a while, then said, “You know, Senator... the Chancellor only sent Anakin to Scipio. I tagged along on my day off. I know that I probably only managed to make things worse… but I thought I was stopping him from doing something 'ill-advised'. I sensed that he had a lot… personal feelings as to the… situation.”

Padmé couldn't help but smile. She remembered at first being irritated at Obi-Wan's presence there – couldn't a woman kiss her secret husband anymore, without having to put up a show of 'just friends' in front of his best friend/mentor who had 'tagged along', and who clearly already knew? 

But now, hearing his words – she knew Obi-Wan had meant well. 

“I'll take you up on your kind offer and go check on him first," she said, picking up the pace, hearing Obi-Wan halt in place behind her. 

But Padmé was not there first. She had barely reached the hangar when she almost bumped into Clovis at the doorway. He was rubbing his cheek with both his hands, muttering something about maybe having dislocated a molar. 

”Padmé." He took both her shoulders in his hands, pulling her closer. His eyes moved about wildly. "That man is insane. You know he's insane, don't you?”

Padmé stared at him. ”Clovis, what happened?”

”I was going to check up on the ship that is to take me to Scipio tomorrow," he explained with great urgency. 

”Anakin… attacked you?” Not only was Padmé shocked at her own deduction, she was also shocked at the speed at which it came out of her mouth. 

”Padmé,” Clovis said, lowering his voice while continuing to hold his cheek, ”I do not want to cause any more public uproar."

Padmé could hardly believe it. But the worst of it was – that she _could._

-

”Anakin, what did you do?"

Anakin turned towards her slowly in the pilot's seat. The doors had been open – he had to have heard her arrival and chosen to keep them that way. And guilty he did look – of something. His expression was oddly calm, but his eyes were blazing. At first, he looked like he wanted to scream – or cry – or something. But he stayed silent, for a long while.

”I shouldn't have,” he finally said quietly. “I know that.”

”Anakin, what did you do?”

”I punched him.”

Padmé gave a small gasp – but then, she had known the molar had not dislocated itself. Anakin then added, turning his other cheek, which wore the faintest hue of red, ”And he returned the courtesy.”

Padmé glanced at the cheek, then stared at him in the eye. 

”That's when I sensed you coming," Anakin went on. He seemed to be barely comprehending his own words, or the fact that he was speaking at all. "And I... I know there was a third punch – but I have no memory of who delivered it. But I know it did the most damage.”

Padmé suddenly took a good look at the ship's control table. By the looks of it, the table had been on the receiving end of the mystery punch – that, or someone had been pinned against it. 

"What was he doing in your ship?" she forced herself to ask. 

Anakin only shook his head.

”Both of you..." Padmé drew a deep breath, sat in the passenger's seat, and started again. "Both of you need to stop before you do something you'll regret. I don't... need this. Nobody needs this. There are much bigger things going on here than... whatever this is." 

Anakin nodded. He could not seem to meet her eyes.

"I don't even remember what he said before... before..." he whispered, trailing off. 

Padmé bit her lower lip. She had a natural inclination to rationalize, to somehow justify her husband's actions... and perhaps even judge Clovis' instead, or more harshly. But in the end, did it really matter what Clovis had said? Did it really make a difference whether he'd provoked Anakin?

”I saw you two at the party,” Anakin continued. ”I wanted to punch him then, too.” 

Well, there it was. 

”…What stopped you?” she asked, as though out of academic curiosity. 

”Nothing did,” Anakin said quietly. “I… I only put off the inevitable.”

”The inevitable?”

“I was… I was always going to do it. I was always going to lose control. I was just so… _angry._ Too angry…”

Anakin’s voice sounded pained – as though he’d rather have been anything but angry – been anyone but himself: the Chosen One, powerful Jedi, competent military officer, great pilot, master engineer, loving husband – who was always, inevitably, going to lose control.

Padmé didn’t quite know what to say. To be angry was to be human – but to act on it was to be destructive. And today, fortunately, that destruction had only spread as far as the control table, and a molar. 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Anakin had not wanted to punch Clovis. He had wanted to kill him. It was as plain as that. Most of the time, he just hated the man. But at that moment, for whatever reason, he had wanted to end him.

If he had not sensed Padmé coming and snapped out of whatever episode he'd hurtled into, who knows what could have happened. He couldn't recall half his actions, or a quarter of Clovis' words – all he remembered was the blind fury. 

And at what? Anakin stopped to consider for a while, trying to think through his enduring anger. The man had done plenty of things, and didn't seem to know what was good for him, but what had he done so far that merited... death? This wasn't two years ago, and thank the heavens of Iego, the rage Anakin felt now could not remotely compare to – did he really want to go there?

A punch he could have maybe justified to himself, maybe even to Padmé, if he hadn't known what he had meant to do.

Or did he know? The worst part was that he didn't – and wouldn't ever. He was already too far removed from the situation – that was mostly blank to him now anyway – still vaguely angry, but no longer bathing and reveling in the sensation.

He wasn't even sure if he was more or less ashamed now that Padmé wasn't here. As soon as she'd appeared, he'd truly and genuinely regretted his actions – or rather, been forced to acknowledge the regret. And once she'd gone, he'd wanted to keep on regretting, so as to make sure he'd never snap like that again. But now he wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. It was certainly unpleasant, but he couldn't quite place it.

Anakin felt like he shouldn't have needed Padmé for this, but he was already a little confused whether the Jedi dogma dictated one try to identify their feelings and then ignore them, or just ignore them, and... feel harmony instead, or something.   

-

”It's that Jedi Knight, isn't it?”

For once, Anakin really wanted her to say yes – in public. In front of the Chancellor, all the politicians, Republic representatives – and… banking enthusiasts? – that had gathered at the spaceport to see Clovis off back to Scipio. In the earshot of Bail Organa and another senator Anakin didn't recognize, who had somehow missed Clovis's whispered words that he could hear crystal clear from a distance. Just in time to see him arriving, give him a warm smile, take his hand and pull him into a kiss. In front of all these people.

Wow, his fantasies had gotten tame these days. And yet, it was still the wildest, most surreal thing Anakin could imagine. Especially when reality played out quite differently.

”Anakin!” Padmé exclaimed as she first saw him coming, too surprised to greet a 'Master Jedi' or 'General Skywalker'. Clovis whirled around – the rest of the crowd did too – but it was Clovis's face that Anakin was gauging; his intentions, his sensations that he was assessing through the Force. The man was not afraid of him. He believed Anakin to be a raving lunatic and completely unfit for his chosen profession – and a part of him _was_ half-expecting to get hit again, on the spot – but he was not afraid, for whatever reason.

_Good? Bad?_ Anakin didn't know – he was used to being feared, or at least respected, on the sliding scale from 'ever the Jedi, so mysterious' to awe-induced fear and envy. And he took that respect as a half-given from all his enemies – the lack of it was always something of a personal insult. So to have this man still scoffing at him, after he'd introduced him to forces from within less mystical than the one with a capital forn… _bad?_

Then again… maybe that just meant Anakin had not been quite as close to snuffing the Living Force out of him as he'd thought. Maybe he _had_ just punched him, taken a punch, and the control table had imploded on its own. It wasn't as though he had found _that_ many black tufts of hair while cleaning up the table. So... _good?_

”Master Jedi,” Clovis greeted, and Anakin had to give him credit for putting up a masterful faux diplomat face. And whereas Obi-Wan had lately pointed out that he owned a pair of eyes, the Senators apparently didn't – many of them seemed delighted at the General's surprise appearance, for whatever reason. Especially the Chancellor, but he was always happy to see Anakin. ”We didn't expect the honor.” 

Padmé's expression altered between confused and hopeful as Anakin returned the greeting with a nod, then stopped before Clovis and held out his hand. Clovis took it, as though out of some ambassadorial reflex. Anakin had half a mind to keep and keep shaking it and involve his other hand too, like Clovis had been doing to his wife for weeks, but he was already disgusted enough with himself.  

There was nothing he actually wanted to say to this slime pile of a man – so he didn't – but if Clovis could make grand public displays in the name of whatever, so could he. 

Clovis, a little puzzled at Anakin's wordless gesture, nodded in response and said, ”And thank you for all your assistance, Master Skywalker… on _Scipio._ ”

That last addition prompted a few snickers and awkward looks. Either the politicians were not as discreet and subtle as they prided themselves in being, or Anakin just sensed their amusement through the Force. His plight on Scipio had been widely holovised, named as a problematic factor in the now-moot loan negotiations and used as a political argument, so of course that was _hilarious_. At least now everyone's eyes had been opened. There was about as much diplomacy and cordiality in the air as in a droid fight ring in some dank cave on Tatooine. 

After the incident, Padmé had decided to step down from her role as negotiator for a new loan contract and recommended her friend Bail instead, to a disappointed but understanding Chancellor Palpatine. She had cited her personal history with Clovis as being an interfering factor and (in her professional and cautious politician's language) alluded ever so subtly to Clovis's inappropriate advances, probably making it seem like the blame was on her and her inability to reconcile with their last encounter. The Chancellor had then appointed Senator Organa and an assisting junior Senator to go to Scipio for a fresh round of negotiations and an extended diplomatic visit instead, while Padmé would still be hailed as one of the two heroes who discovered the data needed for the Five's conviction. And also suspected, alongside Clovis, of providing false data and potentially soon leading the Republic to ruin. The world of war finances was scary and complicated. 

Anakin knew that the personal part of this ordeal could've by now been over. That is, if he hadn't developed an obsession with Scipio's holo tower and almost taken the opportunity to stow away on this very ship. 

Not yet. He wanted all of his tools in prime condition, and for once, he needed to make one of those 'actual plans' that Obi-Wan was always nagging him about. He wondered what his Master would say if he knew he was going to make this rare exception for the sake of, technically, committing a crime.

Unceremoniously, his worst enemy was shortly packed into a ship and shipped off to Scipio. As they started to head back, Anakin sensed that Padmé wanted to talk, but Senator Chuchi apparently required Padmé's attention with greater urgency, and the Supreme Chancellor, in turn, wanted a word with Anakin.

”What a lovely gesture, Anakin,” he praised, placing a wrinkly hand on his shoulder. They were trailing behind the rest of the party, as the elderly Chancellor's movements were slow. ”I know you're not fond of the man. And when you consider the circumstances of his acquisition of the data file… oh, I myself worry whether he is to be trusted. But do not we all want to believe in second chances, hm?”

  
Anakin's handshake, to be sure, had not been for the sake of giving Clovis a second chance – more along the lines of pettiness, feeling superior, and maybe impressing Padmé, or at least making the handshake the last interaction she'd witness between the two men. 

”Yes… we'll see,” Anakin muttered. Maybe the gesture had been a little too public for his taste.

”Please don't mistake my public endorsement of Clovis for my private confidence in him,” the Chancellor clarified, sliding his hand from Anakin's shoulder along the side of his arm, and giving a smile. ”I pray for this success and continued redemption, but between you and I, should any slip-ups transpire… ” He tutted and wagged his finger while still smiling. ”We will not hesitate to take drastic action.”

Anakin was inclined to agree. 

-

”What was that all about, Anakin? Earlier today?” Padmé finally inquired. Somehow, between her busy schedule and the demands of his job, they had not found a private moment until this late at night at her apartment. Anakin wasn't quite sure whether she sounded appreciative – of the handshake, or his entering through the balcony, or what he was (not) wearing at the moment in a hopeful spirit – but he'd soon find out.

”I… felt bad,” he lied – or did he? ”And I guess… I wanted to provide him one last opportunity to… you know… spill the beans on me. I didn't want to hide like some coward.” 

”They would have never believed him over you,” Padmé scoffed, now walking his way, looking his way, and certainly looking at his relative lack of attire, but very deliberately pulling a shawl over her shoulder-exposing nightdress. Anakin made a pout. ”He's a traitor, you're a war hero; he shrewdly maneuvered his way to the top; you were wrongfully imprisoned…”

Anakin was starting to deeply regret the handshake. The gesture in itself had done nothing but soiled his hand with treachery and smugness, but to have it generate this many prolonged conversations over Clovis, who was finally gone from their lives forever – except...

For a moment, he reconsidered his plan to go to Scipio. Why go closer, when he could be farther? In a rare moment, he remembered one of Obi-Wan's lessons, and a boring one at that, which was to look inward in a moment of agitation and ask the Force for an answer. Even as Padmé's tone gradually softened and she made a few concessions – _still a nice gesture, perhaps you meant well_ – Anakin instead turned away for a moment, closed his eyes, and listened. 

Obi-Wan's Force signature was especially bright tonight – worried, but… different somehow. Anakin wasn't quite sure, because he'd often been accused of making everything about himself – but it felt like his Master was thinking about him. About... him and Padmé? But Anakin had no time to dwell on what juicy secrets Obi-Wan believed he'd learned.

But the Force didn't seem intent on giving answers… and Anakin never been much good at meditating. He only saw the reception tower. But that was not the Force – that was a man-made, unmystical, different kind of Galaxy-wide connective tissue. Mechanical, more grounded. Sure, _he_ was great at both, but the two had little to do with each other. One couldn't use the Force to fix the reception and no matter how good the signal, its capacity was insignificant compared to the power of the Force.

At least, what he saw didn't _feel_ like a Force vision. But if he was already obsessing about something, could he even recognize a vision if it woke him up night and bit him in the nose?

With his human senses, Anakin had actually heard most of what Padmé had said, as he slid back into reality, without the more mystical kinds of answers. She still loved him, needlessly apologized for something – still found something to criticize him for – and was now staring at his bare chest and swallowing.

-

Without wanting to, Padmé – or rather Senator Amidala – found herself contacting Director Clovis through her holoprojector in two days' time. She half-expected the message to not go through, but it did – of course it did, because Anakin was still the best at what he did even when he couldn't do his best. 

”Padmé!” a flickering blue figure greeted her, his voice many things at a time – surprised, tired, elated, caught off-guard.

”Hello, Clovis,” she said, a little too coldly. ”I thought it polite to inquire – in a professional and cordial spirit – whether the negotiations are progressing smoothly?”

She had briefly holo'ed with Bail yesterday, the signal a little more unstable at the time. He had informed her that he and the junior Senator were only just settling in.

”Uh,” Clovis uttered, eyes tracing circles on the floor, hand scratching his neck. ”T-to be determined.” He gave an awkward laughter, still not meeting her eyes. A faint hum of interference seeped into the signal.

”Clovis, is everything alright there?”

He gave a brave smile.

”I… I do wish you were here, Padmé.”

Padmé sighed. Technically, she had officially pulled out of the professional side of things, and this was the reason. She had called Clovis of her own volition, against her better judgment, and if this is what he wanted to reward her with, if this what he wanted to have a discussion about, then so be it.

”Clovis, we talked about this. Your behavior during your stay here was inappropriate. I apologize for leading you on and for using you in the past, but frankly that is all the more reason not to bother with me, and instead focus on the demands of your new position. I almost filed a complaint on you, but I–”

He laughed again – now hollowly, snidely.

”And you would have been believed.”

Padmé tilted her head defensively.

”This was a mistake, Clovis. Good night.”

”No, wait!” he suddenly pleaded.

Padmé inclined her head, almost startled, wondering just how many moodswings this man would undergo in the space of a few minutes. But as he hesitated, opening his mouth to speak several times only to back down, Padmé had to take the opportunity to instead make her message clear once and for all.

”Clovis, despite… everything, I want to support you professionally, and I want you to succeed professionally. But I'm not going to be drawn into some imaginary love triangle when there's barely enough love here for a single one-way line.”

Clovis looked hurt – and maybe something else – scowling silently from under his brows.

Padmé had meant her words – the supportive and the hurtful. She knew that underneath that superiority-inferiority complex and his obsessive tendencies, her old friend possessed many great qualities. But she also knew that even had she not been with Anakin – _Anakin_. Why was it that the constant mention of her husband – or 'the Jedi Knight' – worried her the most? 

To be sure, Anakin's anger issues had given her lots of concern in the past, and recently. But suddenly it struck her that Clovis had, at the very least, hit him back. And if Anakin could not get _his_ obsession under control, Clovis would soon be in a position to hurt him again – more subtly – or vice versa – less subtly. Just what would it take for this man – for any man – to start to embrace their best qualities, instead of the very worst?  


	8. Chapter 8

”A little bird tells me you're planning to do something 'ill-advised'. Would this be a Geonosis, or rather a Vanqor kind of ill-advised?”

Anakin did not much enjoy being forced to guess which one of his consecutive mess-ups Obi-Wan meant by 'Geonosis', and why he seemed to think that his apprentice had at least made slightly better decisions on their plentiful misadventures on Vanqor. Should he take this as a compliment? Well, he didn't have time, and that was not the point anyway.

”I'm going back to Scipio,” Anakin answered truthfully, whirling around on the ramp to the Twilight. ”Right now.”

Obi-Wan nodded. ”So… the Scipio kind.”

”Very clever, Master,” Anakin sighed. ”Are you not going to ask why? Try to stop me… do what you do best.”

”Oh, I find that what I do best is give you advice.”

Anakin nodded slowly, drumming his fingers against the box of supplies he was holding, then gesturing with his other arm towards the ship.

”Can't you tell me on the way? The more the merrier. We can be arrest buddies again.”

Of course, the two of them had been arrest buddies plenty of times, but somehow, in the Scipio-gate, Obi-Wan's brief arrest had become a mere footnote, while Anakin's extended one had ended up the talk of the town. Curiously, Anakin no longer blamed his Master for the incident – having recently been made to face how his own boiling anger often contributed to situations escalating.

”I'll respectfully decline your kind invitation.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes at him. Obi-Wan appeared to be in a strange mood – he sounded almost jovial – as though he was, for once, feeling optimistic about something. Anakin was almost sorry he could only give him a tired look, preparing to sit through whatever wisdom the older Jedi had to provide today – and risk being found out before he could set off. But he could do this much for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan's features suddenly grew tenser.

”I sense so much anger in you. You know what Master Yoda says about that.”

”Fear… suffering… bad feelings. Bad things,” Anakin listed wearily, with somewhat loose vocabulary. He was suddenly starting to miss going to missions with Obi-Wan, and listen to his nagging about the immediate danger they were facing, instead of Anakin's character flaws. ”First thing he ever said to me.”

”And you remember what I usually tell you?”

”Harmony… control… I know the teachings, Master.”

”And you know what I'm telling you now?”

Anakin gave him a scowl, not greatly appreciating the structure of this conversation.

”What, Master?”

Obi-Wan pressed a thoughtful hand to his beard, casting Anakin a long gaze. There was something of a softness in his eyes.

”That perhaps… what you're feeling is not just anger.”

Anakin shifted. That was something new – and it seemed to strike something of a chord with him. His shoulders relaxed, and he inclined his head with cautious curiosity.

”Perhaps it is just what you said… a bad feeling.”

Anakin studied his master.

”Kinda like the one you had?”

”Yes…”

”And did that pass, Master?”

”Yes,” Obi-Wan said slowly. ”But only after it became reality.”

Anakin looked away. If Obi-Wan meant what he thought he meant, it wasn't something he had expected his Master to have sensed. The worst part was, Obi-Wan didn't know the details – _Anakin_ didn't know the details. He must have only sensed his murderous rage, his darkness.

”The curious thing is,” Obi-Wan went on, ”I thought I felt something bigger – of greater consequence – than merely… whatever you did to that poor man.”

Anakin swallowed, as Obi-Wan mumbled something about Clovis still being alive, at least. Obi-Wan then hurried to clarify, as though it could help Anakin feel better, ”I only sensed your regret afterward. I was on my way to see you–” he momentarily stumbled upon his words. ”I know something happened. But I was not spying on you.”

But he _had_ been on his way to see him on that day – apparently moments before Padmé had appeared and claimed first turn. Something of a bad feeling, indeed. Anakin tried to imagine how differently things would have played out if it had been Obi-Wan running into Clovis in the hangar and Obi-Wan staring at the busted control table.

”I'm getting sidetracked,” Obi-Wan said apologetically. ”What I'm saying is, I think this is something else. I can't seem to get a grasp on it… because, I think, it does not directly involve me. While you, the _Chosen One_ ,” he said the last words with an affectionate sneer, his tone strangely cheerful again, ”can feel the full impact of whatever will soon come to pass. But due to your… immaturity, you're mistaking it for anger at this person who has done very little to you.”

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but Obi-Wan wouldn't let him.

”Yes, we all know he has caused plenty of trouble for your _wife._ ”

For a second, Anakin started, before remembering he had risked everything in a throwaway joke not too long ago, and now Obi-Wan was at the very least in a position to give the two of them heart attacks for the rest of eternity. And again, he had no time for this.

Anakin rubbed his forehead, confused like never before.

”Let me get this straight. I am, once again, feeling too much for Jedi standards… but for once it's also good, because you think it's some kind of premonition?”

Obi-Wan paused. He seemed to be considering just how comfortably what he had said, and what Anakin was suggesting now, fit into the Jedi principles, and Master Yoda's views on premonitions and visions. Then he got on the ramp and walked over to Anakin, to place a gentle hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye.

”Search your feelings, Anakin. And if you can… do channel them into something good. Don't settle for just anger and fear. I know you're better than that.”

Anakin stared at him.

The Jedi Master then whirled around with one final look at his apprentice, and left without waiting for a response.

-

Padmé had often been accused of being a workaholic, but this time around she had thought she’d enjoy the bit of respite that her stepping down from the negotiations would bring. Instead she found herself quite uneasy after her call with Clovis, and not even 12 hours had passed before she contacted Bail again. The call barely got through, and she nearly had to press an ear to the speaker of her holo projector to be able to make out the familiar voice.

Bail spoke first, and with some rare, thinly veiled urgency.

“Padmé, I am so glad you called. I couldn’t get through to you from here. Padmé, something very odd is going on here. It has been two days, and we have yet to be presented with the new loan agreement. There is a very shady Separatist Representative staying at the–“

“What?” Padmé echoed. “The new Separatist contract is being negotiated at the same time?”

Bail nodded, almost drowning into the gray, rasping rain of interference.

“Yes... I was willing to let that – there is something – Representative Clovis does seem troubled – I wish I knew what it –“

With that, the signal was dead, and Padmé’s resurrection attempts proved futile.

Suddenly she felt guilty – _she should have gone to Scipio._ She would have gotten through to Clovis, whatever he was hiding. Hiding…

Padmé bit her lip. She had had enough of hiding. It was time for the truth to come out.

Teckla came in with some tea and imported Nabooian biscuits. Her expression indicated that she had overheard the conversation. 

”My Lady…” 

”I know, Teckla. Something very strange is going on.” The Senator gave her a trusting look. ”I know you're always up for another adventure, Teckla, but I'm sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to stay behind instead, and cancel all my appointments for the next few days. If it's urgent, please have Representative Binks cover for me.”

”Right away, My Lady.” She gave a bow and a warm smile. ”Good luck.”

-

”Anakin!” Padmé sprinted into the hangar, looking around for her husband’s freighter. She was surprised to find Anakin on his way to meet her. “Oh, I'm so glad you're still here,” she sighed, clasping both his hands in hers. 

”I was about to take flight,” Anakin explained, “but then I sensed you… like _really_ sensed you. Your urgency…”

”To come with you,” Padmé announced. “No, scratch that, to kidnap you.”

”Kidnap me?” Anakin echoed with sudden curiosity, smirking as though he had never heard of an idea more wonderful.

”Yeah, come on,” Padmé hurried, grabbing his wrist like a proper crook should, still panting. ”To my star skiff.”

”Wait, wait, wait –”

”I don't care what kind of lousy plan you've come up with. Mine is better. And frankly,” she gestured towards whatever barely functional scraps were left of the Twilight this week, ”so is my ship.”

”You'll… smuggle me to Scipio? Why? I thought you disapproved,” Anakin reminded her, following her outside and to her skyspeeder.

”I changed my mind,” she explained. ”I'll explain it when we reach hyperspace. And smuggling is the right word, yes.”

”What do you mean?” 

”Well,” Padmé said, shoving him onto the speeder and grabbing the yoke, ”have I mentioned there is an anti-thermal-scanner compartment in the back of my ship?”

”What?” Anakin uttered. ”Why haven't you?”

”Now that I think of it, you specifically told me never to introduce you to any more of my ship's special features… after – ” She turned towards him momentarily, flushing and chuckling, ”ahem, do you remem–”

”Oh, _that._ ” He gave a laughter, his nose scrunching up with either disgust or delight. ”No, that's not what I said.”

-

In hyperspace, Anakin listened to Padmé’s recount of the situation, her concerns, Bail’s messages and Clovis’ odd behavior - without interrupting, still a little incredulous that he was actually taking this risky and nonsensical trip with Obi-Wan’s blessing and his wife for company. But once she’d finished, he found himself only vaguely worried about the bigger picture - there was only so much room in his brain for politics and finances - and left with that one name he so despised. 

“So… you’ll probably cross paths with Clovis again.”

Padmé did not look happy with his response.

“Anakin, it is my _intention_ to ‘cross paths’ with Clovis – and demand answers." 

Anakin gave a vague nod. 

“And I need your help,” she then added, to Anakin’s surprise. Padmé momentarily took her eyes off the display screen and focused on her words. “Something for your own little excursion. Look, I don’t know much about these things, but since you _are_ breaking into their holo tower… would you maybe be able to… spy on any covert networks?”

Anakin gave a nod again, an enthusiastic one. If there were any covert networks to be found, he had doubt in his ability to hack into them.

“Again, I thought you disapproved.”

Padmé shook her head.  

“I’ve been a major hypocrite, Anakin. You said it yourself. I do this all the time – unauthorized missions, breaking less than useful laws in the name of justice. And since it doesn’t look like there is going to be any new contract for you to ruin–“

“Hey!”

They gave a hearty laughter in unison, and Padmé playfully struck him on the arm, rather more forcefully than needed.

A long silence followed, and the air between them tightened again. But Anakin knew it was mostly the Force radiating off him and his darkened thoughts. Darkened – but no longer dark.

”Padmé,” Anakin said in a quiet voice, ”You know what I was going to ask of you?”

”What, Anakin?”

He shifted in his seat.

”To…” He looked away. “If I… If I'm ever about to snap again, and you happen to be there, to… give me a signal. To make me stop.”

Padmé was silent. Engine sounds filled the cockpit. 

“But now I understand…” he drew a deep breath, feeling like he had already forgotten whatever Obi-Wan had said to him this morning. “I can’t ask that of you. You might not be there. And a Jedi is supposed to be able to control his emotions."

Keeping her eyes on the screen, but gently stealing a glance at her husband, Padmé softly laid her hand his shoulder, gliding it along the side of his arm. 

”Let me teach you an alternative to that Jedi philosophy of 'controlling your emotions'. You see, the emotions are always going to be there. But you _can_ control your impulses. Your actions are never an inevitability."

She smiled at him.

"Too lecture-y?"

"It's a nice change of pace from Obi-Wan." 

-

This time, it was Anakin's turn to that fall asleep on the journey. Padmé was reminded of Obi-Wan’s extended nap on their first fateful adventure on the banking planet. Before she had married Anakin, she had actually been under the impression that the Jedi did not sleep. Even now - it was a strange thing to witness. Chest moving up and down on his seat, Anakin looked almost too tranquil and innocent to be a General of the Grand Army of the Republic. 

Nearing the end of the hyperspace journey, Padmé’s holo projector activated. Bail appeared as a bare wavering outline to inform her that the signal was currently so unstable, he’d have to keep this brief. He had just notified the Supreme Chancellor that the new loan agreement was a complete disaster – with increased interest rates for the Republic, as well as completely unreasonable terms and conditions. Meanwhile, the Separatists were to be given a contract with decreased loan interest, and complete forgiveness for their past transgressions, and – something that Padmé could no longer make out, as the connection shut down with a scratch. 

Padmé took her hand off the yoke and plunged it into the ornate composition on her head, scratching at her scalp. This was worth ruining a perfect hairstyle for.

What in the world was Rush Clovis doing?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2-3 chapters left after this one! 
> 
> thank you for reading everyone, all the kudos & comments I've received and the support & interest you've expressed in this story really means the world to me! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can now say with some confidence that this IS, indeed, the second last chapter... as I have written the final chapter and it has an ending :D

Bail Organa drew a deep breath, his mask of courtesy and patience breaking down for a split second. In a fatherly gesture, he put his hand upon his younger assistant’s shoulder, whose name Clovis could not for the life of him recall. It didn’t matter – nothing mattered anymore. Rush Clovis was ruined.

“Representative Clovis, you must understand that we cannot possibly –“ he cast an incredulous look down at the holopad he was holding. “This contract is an insult. I do not understand why you’re doing this. Is this how the Separatists operate these days? Throwing subtlety to the wind?”

Clovis said nothing. Organa’s authoritative voice echoed off the walls of the enormous Main Hall, as those same structures seemed to close in on Clovis and his miserable life.

“I cannot alter the contract,” Clovis finally stated matter-of-factly, in a small voice. “You need the money, please just sign and take it. The contracts… are equally fair.”

Organa’s mouth fell open, and even the puny whelp of a senator shifted in discomfort. 

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing, Clovis. You had better hope the signal is still down, because I’m obliged to report and reaffirm your stance, and I know what follows next. Soon enough there will be a fleet in the sky and the Republic will take over the banks.” He shook his head, as Clovis seemed to shrink smaller and smaller before him. “This is the last thing we wanted, Clovis. Last thing _I_ wanted. You’re through.” 

-

“Such plans I had… Such visions…” Clovis mumbled absently to himself, barely aware of the sound of his voice. The large window in his personal quarters provided a sickeningly wide view of the sky, where the Republic gunships would soon be looming. To claim control of the banks… _his_ banks. For a second, he thought he hallucinated something already – a single small aircraft in the distance.

Clovis barely registered the passage of time, until suddenly; with the rudest, most boisterous knock Clovis had ever heard, the over-eager servant boy saw himself in.

“Sir, Senator Padmé Amidala was just granted landing permission.”

“What?” Clovis uttered, startled by the boy's entrance, insulted by his nerve and completely bewildered by what he was hearing, all in quick succession. 

“And that is not all, sir. I was informed that before steering toward to the spaceport, she made a strange curve in the sky, and one of the attendants thought he saw… _something._ But nothing could be confirmed.” 

Clovis tried to sort out his thoughts. He could hardly believe that 48 hours ago, he had still _longed_ for Padmé to come. Now she was here, only to witness his downfall, and of course – since this was Padmé they were talking about – she was already up to something.

She must be in on this, he reasoned. No matter how he looked at the situation, it seemed that the Republic had planned on all of this happening – Clovis' personal undoing, the Republic's occupation of Scipio. And what was Padmé if not a loyal agent of the Republic? She had used him in the past, and she had – mercifully? - tried to warn him that she would do so again.

Now she had come to gloat, she and that Jedi General.

They had come to laugh at him, together. 

Clovis turned towards the servant boy, who was now silently and dramatically standing to attention.

“What do the… what do the people think of me now? The people of Scipio, how are they taking this?”

“'This', meaning…” the boy spluttered. 

“Do they support me, support the Republic?” He chuckled quietly, “Support the Confederacy?”

“Sir…”

Clovis strode over to the boy and looked him intently in the eye. “What if I can prove that the Republic set me up, that this was all their doing? Then the people will forgive me, right? When the Republic attacks?”

The boy was now timidly shaking his head and backpedaling.

“Sir, perhaps… shall I arrange transport for you to meet Senator Amidala?”

-

At least Padmé would not have to look for Clovis, but she was not quite sure she was really _relieved_ to see him either, coming to meet her as she walked down the ramp and braced herself. Strangely, he was alone – no aides, no other representatives, no one.

And she supposed she was alone as well, but somehow it didn’t feel that way at all.

Clovis was still silent as he reached her, making that bitter scowl from under his brows.

“Clovis, tell me what is happening,” Padmé demanded, skipping any pleasantries.

“Not until you tell me why you’re here. Where’s the Jedi?”

“I came alone.”

“Stop lying,” Clovis nearly shouted, making her flinch. “What are you up to, where is he? He come with a battalion this time?”

“Clovis,” Padmé raised her voice as well, “I don't know what you’re talking about, and frankly, you’re in no position to be questioning _me._ Now let’s talk about that contract.”

“I stand by it,” he spat, lowering his gaze.

“The Republic will not –“

“Yes,” Clovis cut her short, now actually shouting, “Senator Organa already told me that much!”

Padmé tried to think, and think fast. 

“Are you being blackmailed? By the Separatists? By Dooku?” 

“…No.”

“You have nothing to lose at this point, Clovis.”

Something fearful flashed across his scowl. He was silent for a while, squirming uncomfortably before her. Finally, he said, barely audibly, “And what if I am?”

“Then that changes everything!” Padmé exclaimed. “Clovis, please, we can fix this. Let me –”

“’Help’?” Clovis guessed. “Is that what you were going to say? ‘Fix’ this? No thank you. And seeing as you’re here unofficially, let me inform you on behalf of the Clan that we shall not be providing quarters for the night… and respectfully ask you to leave.”

“Clovis…”

He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, as though he hated her saying his very name. Then he folded his arms, squirmed about for a while again, then reached forward to shakily touch her shoulder.

“Goodbye, Padmé.”

-

Back on her ship, Padmé immediately activated her holo projector, praying for the signal to carry over to Anakin. She let out a sigh of relief when it did. He was already on the move. 

“How was the landing?”

She had never before used the escape pod feature of the anti-thermal compartment, but seeing as her husband apparently had a talent for surviving terrible landings, she’d had no choice but to put her trust in him.

“Had worse,” he mumbled, ruffling his hair, looking like he might have a slight headache.

“Are you at the reception tower?”

“Yeah, thought I’d mix it up and take the stairs this time.”

Padmé bit down on her nail, nodding nervously.

“Anakin, be careful. Clovis came to meet me at the spaceport, and…” She considered mentioning his unstable state of mind, but thought better of it. “… And I think he suspects something. He… he suspects you're here with me, Anakin. And…”

Even as he listened in silence, Anakin’s worry and displeasure were palpable. 

“Long story short… I think the Republic might be about to do something drastic… like send troops to forcibly claim control of the banks. We discussed worst case scenarios back on Coruscant, and even though I –”

“What?” Anakin uttered in disbelief – or perhaps the signal was wavering again. 

“Never mind, just focus on the tower. The sooner you get it in order, the better. I’m going to see Bail now, maybe together we can talk some sense into Clovis.”

Anakin gave a smile, with the slightest worried edge.  
  
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything, okay?” 

-

Anakin shut down the projector and whirled around to admire from the window his 89th crash landing within the… what was the point of keeping count? From this height, the escape pod was but a small gray spot on the ground, but upon crashing it had naturally gone from ghost mode back to full visibility, and Anakin could only hope no curious onlookers or tower personnel would show up.

Finally, after what seemed like 50 flights of stairs and 7 separate elevator rides, he was back at the main control room once again. He knelt down before the control table in the center and turned the system on. Hacking into the mainframe was the laughably easy part.

Hacking… as the computer was still taking its time processing, Anakin thought about his wife’s own mission and her great urgency and concern. Trying very hard not to worry about her, he decided to first grant Padmé’s request and attempt to hack into any private networks and frequencies that passed through this tower.

He stared at the screen, at the symbols that kept popping up that made very little sense to most Jedi or even most engineers, and, diving into a trance of routine, typed down information until the next desired result was accomplished. And the next, and the next…

He felt a little silly as he only now remembered to put the headphones on. He nearly gasped. He was already getting something.

_“But – can we – to put our trust in someone like – “_

Well, this seemed good.

_“Will not this too – badly for us?”_

The voices sounded strangely familiar. Anakin couldn’t quite place them in the Force, but he felt as though he had been in the close proximity of the speakers before. They were Muuns – officials of some kind. He felt as though he had not met these specific individuals, but perhaps their… lackeys, or…

_“He is a Sith Lord, Pexi. A Sith Lord. Do you even know what a – is?”_

Anakin nearly jumped through the ceiling and into the not-far-above stratosphere. Of all the things he’d expected, this had been number minus 27 on the list.

Without warning, the connection went dead, and Anakin cursed aloud. Something seemed to quiver about in the Force – an undesired presence, one that he’d rather not have sensed at all – and Anakin had to assume it was the Sith Lord mentioned by the speaker. It was not as though he could quite identify it as Dooku via the holo signal alone. But as the presence kept getting stronger and stronger, Anakin desperately tried to adjust the connection, so as to reach the frequency again.

He got quite close.

_“General Kenobi will lead the attack. Surely it is what he wishes – the poor soul is always chasing after Skywalker like a stray cat –“_

Anakin froze in place.

_“ – thinks – his friend. And if my calculations are correct, Skywalker will have rid us of – end of the day.”_

Even filtered through the holo signal, the speaker’s chilling voice… it sounded eerily alien; yet so, so familiar at the same time. And it was not only his voice – although that was technically the only thing Anakin could perceive – but his presence, his very essence, everything he was – were so overwhelming and all-consuming, so dark and evil and disgusting, that Anakin could no longer sense anything else at all. It was as though not only the Force, but all his senses had been blocked out completely, and all he could do was listen, as though hypnotized.

And then the hypnosis snapped right off as a violent blast of energy hit Anakin from behind.

-

Something about the circumstances emboldened Padmé to give both Bail and the young assistant Senator warm embraces, as she – after five separate verbal battles – was finally led into the Main Hall.

Bail gave an affectionate laughter, and even the young man seemed flattered and delighted.

“I’m sorry,” Padmé apologized to the youth anyway. “I’m a little upset at the moment, I don’t think I even know your name – “

Padmé stopped as a shocked expression suddenly flashed on the fresh-faced politician’s features.

“Senator Amidala…” he brought a shushing hand to his lips, much to the confusion of both the older Senators. Then he reached to touch the back of her shoulder, Padmé flinched but could hardly protest after having just hugged him. As he withdrew his hand, a sharp scratch was heard. Then he opened his fist and presented the contents to her nervously.

“That’s better.” 

-

As Anakin came to, he was could sense at least one thing through the Force again – that he could barely reach the Force. But it didn’t take him long to figure out that the unwanted presence he had felt, and the all-consuming voice he'd heard had been two different individuals – and the former was presently sitting idly on the floor, cross-legged, giving him weary glances.

Anakin also didn’t need the Force to feel that his hands were bound behind his back, with a fairly ridiculous amount of durasteel, attached with a chain to a pipe on the wall. Anakin struggled and trashed around a little, more out of principle than anything else. The sorry excuse he had for company just shook his head.

“I'm turning you over to the authorities,” Rush Clovis announced, his tone impassive. “There has to be a limit to what even the Jedi can get away with.”

Anakin blinked at him, still a little disoriented, then craned his neck to try to see behind his back.

“You own two pairs of Force-dampening cuffs? I'm beginning to think it's me you want, not Padmé.”

A wave of satisfaction washed over him. Quipping at his captor helped Anakin stay centered – less angry. And boy, was he still plenty angry.

“You have a metal arm,” Clovis scoffed, sounding amused.

“I do?” Anakin retorted with mock panic, twisting and turning theatrically to try and check. “Can’t see from this angle.”

Then he remembered something with a jolt, and felt a fresh surge of fury rising up again.

“ _You_ … you have no idea what you just interrupted.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

“No authorities are coming, Clovis. They'll be busy fighting off the Republic fleet.” Anakin added, sneering, “Or surrendering, more like.”

“I think they can squeeze in a Republic spy,” Clovis said quietly. Anakin's eyes wandered from the control table in the center of the room to the antennae outside the surrounding windows. All the secrets that passed through… And then there was Rush Clovis, just casually sitting next to Anakin's precious toolbox, blissfully unaware of what the Jedi had just heard with his own two ears, what he had sensed with an ability that Clovis did not even possess. Anakin was not one to normally look down upon the non-Force-sensitive, but at least if Clovis had had the Force (or some common sense) he would have kept listening to the frequency after knocking out 'the spy'. But no, he just had to shut it down and chain the miscreant to the wall.

The double cuffs were doing an adequate job of suppressing the Force around and inside Anakin, but he thought he sensed some deep sadness wafting off the fallen head of the Banking Clan. Of course, he'd rather not have felt anything radiating from the wretch at all, but once again he couldn't help it. 

“What are you even doing here, Clovis?”

Clovis lazily raised his eyes, and the two men stared at each other for a while. Anakin had always thought the banker's features unpleasant, but now he seemed to have suddenly aged about thirty years. Anakin wished Padmé were here – she would have known how to talk politics with him.

”What's going on with those contracts?” Anakin nevertheless pressed on. “Are you a Seppie after all?” Still receiving no response, Anakin took a deep and irritated breath and tried to sound sincere, “Can you please answer me?”

“Dooku gave me a false file,” Clovis suddenly interjected, while Anakin was still speaking. He then begun to vomit words in desperation, “The Core Five are _not_ corrupt… or perhaps they are. There's no way of knowing now. It's the Separatists that have been stealing, without the middleman. And Dooku, he… he paid me a visit. Threatened to expose me as a 'fraud' trying to frame the Five with false data to protect the Confederacy. Personally tailored those awful, awful contracts…”

Clovis' voice trailed off, with a faint, pained sob. He buried his face into his hands.

Anakin gave a slow, thoughtful nod. Something was flailing about in the back of his mind, probably at the exact spot where the stun blast had hit him. He inclined his head back and gently thumped it against the wall, until it finally struck him. The voices he heard on the neighboring frequency, before coming across the Sith Lord – they were police officers.

And they had been in cahoots with the Sith Lord.

Anakin swallowed before speaking with fresh urgency, “You know who _is_ definitely corrupt? Your law enforcement. I still don't completely – you know how I know that, Clovis?”

He nodded towards the control table. Clovis was suppressing sniffles, and seemed to be barely paying attention to his captive's words.

“Just let me go, and I'll show you something.” Anakin deliberately clinked his bounds in protest.

“Let you go?” Clovis echoed amusedly. He suddenly got up with a frightful swiftness, knocking over Anakin's toolbox. Then he roamed about the room for a while, clasping at his head with both his hands, before turning towards Anakin, and sitting down much closer to him, in what was obviously supposed to be a taunting move.

“You'd _kill me_.”

Anakin glared at the unbalanced mess of a man. He wasn't completely sure he wouldn't – _eventually._ But now he was just starting to get frustrated beyond belief.

”Padmé knows where I am. She'll be worried when I don't answer…”

”She'll think the signal is dead.”

”She'll wonder why I haven't fixed it.”

Clovis raised an eyebrow, then started laughing. He was close enough for Anakin to feel the individual sound waves of his sardonic mirth.

“Good grief, is there anything you _can't_ do? You just have to be a mechanic on top of _everything_ else?”

”Point is, my partner in crime will come for me. Your failures at justice will not.”

-

It was the timing of it all that proved critical. With this diluted version of the Force, Anakin could not sense his own wife before she was already making loud footsteps in the adjacent stairway, nearing the top of the never-ending steps. And somehow Clovis seemed to know it was Padmé as well, as he suddenly shot Anakin a desperate look and reached for his belt.

Anakin jolted up to stand – having only seconds ago been able to separate the cuffs from the chain – but Clovis had gotten a head-start. He swiftly raised an arm to bash Anakin backward into the wall, then whirled behind him, wrapped an arm around his neck and placed a blaster on his temple.

Padmé darted into the room, stopping halfway through shouting Anakin's name. Anakin felt Clovis tighten his grip as Padmé instinctively reached for her own blaster, before thinking better of it. She looked shocked, but less than surprised.

“Let go of him, Clovis.”

Anakin closed his eyes. More than anything, he felt humiliated. Humiliated that this low-life had bested him, humiliated that his wife had to see him like this, humiliated that he might _die_ like this… and maybe also a little fearful. Not for his, but for her sake. And that raised inside him that one sensation that he always seemed to fall back on, the one that he could feel stronger and hotter and better than everyone else.

“Clovis, please. _Please._ ”

_Let Padmé sweet-talk him, lull him into a false sense of security. Once he lowers the blaster, kill him. Kill him for humiliating you like this, for making your wife watch. This serpent has nothing to lose, nothing to live for._

“Now do you want to sign the contract, Padmé?” Clovis mocked.

Anakin shifted about under Clovis's grip.

_You're not going to let him kill you, are you? Kill you, then hurt your wife?_

He remembered the request he had made to Padmé on the ship.

_That doesn't matter now._

Padmé's eyes never broke from Clovis. She wasn't even _looking_ at Anakin, let alone signaling him.

_Don't settle for just anger and fear._

Wise words, but how did they help him now? A madman breathing down his neck, blaster to his temple, hands bound behind his back?

_Use the cuffs to strangle him._

Padme would hate him. He would hate himself.

_Once he lowers his blaster, act quickly. Use the cuffs._

“Clovis, the contract doesn't matter. _You_ do. You have _everything_ to lose… and everything to gain. Think about it. Do you think you'll still have my friendship, after you've killed my husband?”

Anakin felt Clovis shift. Padme would still not look at Anakin. But Anakin was looking at Padmé. And again, even without the Force, he felt something.

She was not thinking of Clovis, of his friendship, of losing it. She was thinking of Anakin – trying to save him.

Anakin felt Clovis' grip loosen. The blaster shifted about on his temple.

_When he lets you go, do it._

With a sob and a quick, resigned movement, Clovis put down his weapon and freed Anakin. Immediately the Jedi put some distance between them, leaped into the air, and skillfully brought his bound hands to his front like he had done innumerable times. He was vaguely aware of Clovis almost raising his blaster again, and Padmé shouting Anakin's name, but they both thought better of making any sudden movements, leaving Anakin plenty of stage to do so.

_Do it._

Clovis was a sobbing heap on the floor. Padmé's stare was now burning into Anakin.

But…

Anakin halted.

Everything was _fine._ No, on second thought, it was not. But it was _over._ Whatever had happened just now didn't matter anymore. There was no reason for him to feel anything over it anymore.

It was over, everything was alright.

He finally locked eyes with Padmé. She ran up into his arms in relief, but not before pocketing Clovis' blaster that had been abandoned on the floor.

They all stayed like that in silence for a while, until Padmé whispered quietly, without letting go of Anakin, or even turning her head, ”You should go now, Clovis.” Anakin pressed his head down onto Padmé's shoulder, closing his eyes.

He heard rustling and sobs and receding footsteps.

When he opened his eyes, they were alone.

-

”Are you okay?” Padmé asked as she used Anakin's lightsaber to sever his restraints for the _second_ time ever – oddly enough.

”Embarrassed,” he replied, probably truthfully. 

”Ani,” she sighed into his chest, ”I never want to leave this tower. Let's just stay here.”

He was clearly not in a hurry to go either, or to break from their embrace. He inclined his head slightly towards the window.

”The view is nice.”

Padmé gave a laugh that sounded mostly like a sob of relief.

After a while, Anakin added, ”As long as we're staying…”

-

Once Anakin had finished explaining, Padmé had but a single comment.

”There's… so much about what you just said that I don't understand.”

”I don't understand it either,” Anakin confessed, moving over to the control table, unplugging a pair of headphones, and apparently switching to speaker mode. ”But I think… the truth is not on the battlefield.”

 _Battle…_ they both found themselves looking out the window again. The fleet would be arriving very soon. Scipio and the banks would belong to the Republic soon.

”It's okay,” Anakin reassured his wife. ”Obi-Wan is leading the attack. For all his flaws, he is a man of peace. He will not seek to destroy this place.” 

Padmé nodded in agreement. Then Anakin added without warning, ”Padmé, I think he knows.”

”Of course he knows, don't be silly.”

”No, about… the marriage. I think I might have accidentally told him.”

Padmé gaped at him, but did so with a smile playing about her lips.

”Well, I guess we're even then.” After a while, when Anakin was already back fidgeting on the control table, she added, ”You know, we could really use a friend instead of an enemy.”

”Yeah,” Anakin agreed. Then his expression changed dramatically. He had probably just hit the right frequency. Suddenly, a sickening coldness filled the room, and the spouses froze in place.

 _”My Lord…”_ Padmé recognized Dooku's proud and aristocratic voice. She didn't know what Anakin had done with the signal, but the sound now rang crystal clear. _”I feel as though your plans concerning young Skywalker are becoming increasingly… specific.”_

_”And why should they not, Tyranus?”_

Padmé tried to exchange glances with Anakin, but he seemed to have turned into a statue. Padmé, on the other hand, couldn't stop shifting – where had she heard… - _no,_ that couldn't be right, for she had never, _ever_ heard such a nasty voice. Yet…

 _”My personal feelings on the boy aside… He already holds an abundance of darkness within,”_ Dooku went on. _”All these needless detours… manipulating him into killing a minor pawn, separating him from his mentor, throwing him in cells and meaningless peril… This entire takeover could have been accomplished without him unwittingly playing his part.”_

_”And do you know what they say about little drops and mighty oceans, Tyranus?”_

_”I may have overstepped my boundaries, My Lord. I apologize.”_

Padmé was now shaking, and she feared Anakin was too. 

”Are they… are they talking about you, Ani? I don't understand.”

”I don't…” Anakin could not even finish the sentence. Slowly, he turned towards Padmé. They stared at each other for a long while, in silence, as the holo call ended with ominous words, and not even a single scratch of interference could be heard.

They shared a kiss – a kiss of mutual confusion, disbelief and solace. A kiss that seemed to come with a promise. A promise to stick together – to work together, despair together – whatever came next.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final thoughts/commentary (not mandatory reading)
> 
> \- whew, this was my first multi-chapter sw fanfic! there's more to come, most of them featuring anidala in some form. I <3 them. 
> 
> \- all the holo stuff/laws/how politics work in this fic is either fanon/stuff I made up/based on something very flimsy I read on wookieepedia (or copied from canon, like the basic outline of this story). this kinda takes errors and inaccuracies to a whole new level as most of them are, in a way, intentional lol :D it's pretty much just one way I could imagine them working. I'll try to do better in this regard in my next fic, as I worry about having made things a little too convenient with whatever plot device I could come up with, and it all leads to such dramatic results. but a fair warning: I also enjoy making stuff up lol. 
> 
> \- there might be some Early Installment Weirdness in the first few chapters, before I settled on a plot and the proper tone (which is still kind of a weird mix of comedy and angst). 
> 
> \- I think you'll notice I kinda flipped the script with Padmé and Anakin and their respective levels of damsel in this fic – twice. look, I know Anakin gets to play the damsel a few times in tcw, but I'm pretty sure Padmé's still in the lead WITH LESS SCREEN TIME and while being a pretty lady. sigh. so I'm sorry Ani but it was high time to bring some balance to the Force.
> 
> \- however, I also didn't want Anakin to be, y'know, useless. that's pretty much why he has his own subplot in this story (that kinda ends up being the main event) so there's more for him to do than just sulk around and look vaguely murder-y. I really, really wanted to try to strike balance between each character's good qualities/talents/strong suites and their flaws and shortcomings. but since this IS a fix-it some of them probably try a little harder to be their best selves than usual (esp. Anakin & Obi-Wan).
> 
> \- Clovis… was interesting to write. I know pretty much 99.9% of my audience HATES him and would've been okay if I'd made him murder space puppies (or not okay, but…) but I actually enjoyed his complex characterization in canon (while still loathing him, ofc) what with his trying to do the right thing and making amends and then being duped – while also being an absolute creep and the basic Entitled Nice Guy and ughhhhh. so it was that multi-faceted nature that I really wanted to explore in this fic. and just like I intentionally made Anakin Try Harder in this fic, I might have also made Clovis a little more villainous at the end with that last stunt, but ehhhh. in canon, he puts a blaster to Padmé's head so I can see him doing the same thing to Anakin with a little more theatrics. plus here he gets to live (maybe) so it evens out?
> 
> \- (^I don't want to say what 'maybe' means but I think you all know.) 
> 
> \- I can't thank everybody enough for reading/commenting/bookmarking/giving kudos!!! <3 <3 <3 it means everything to me that someone actually chose to click on this story and keep reading. if you ever want to chat or look at some mediocre star wars art check out my tumblr strrne. thank you all SO MUCH for reading!!! <3


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